BFFF: Love Will Make it Certain
by CryHOg
Summary: Sequel to BFFF. After 4 months, Alfred returns, but for a short while. Arthur is willing to wait for Alfred after he returns from his 'errands.'  But what has Alfred been up to? And is Arthur even concern that he could possibly be up to no good?
1. 120

**The author has finally decided… ****finally****: **After nearly 3... Okay maybe longer month hiatus, I finally caught back on making a new story of "BFFF." I totally forgotten how tired/lazy I could be after working 2 jobs. I also totally forgotten how much I hate the real world. I came to a realization about myself… I can no longer deny it… I have _no _life. But that doesn't mean it's going to keep me from uploading _USxUK wut-wut in duh butt _goodness for you all. That's all that matters. Thank you all once again for the wait, and… I hope this story is gonna be awesome.

…well, see ya'll in a month. I'm joking! Hehe.

I hope.

**-shout out and HUGE thanks to this chapter's proofreader: ****Sarah**** (thanks hommie)!**

**Axis Powers Hetalia © Himaruya Hidekazu (Okay, Hima-chan. There ****is**** someone else… *sniffles* it's… Normura! D8)**

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**BFFF: Love Will Make it Certain**

**-01-**

"Sir? Excuse me, sir?"

The dozing blond man stirred awake with a questionable moan as he felt something gently tapping his shoulder.

"Sir?"

Blue eyes slowly opened. Focusing his vision, the back of someone's chair was the first thing he saw. Trailing his eyes to the right, he saw a person peering behind the chair. It was a little girl who looked no older than four, staring at the man with big and curious brown eyes. The man tiredly smiled at her. Just when he was about to say hi...

"Sir, we'll be landing soon."

The man looked up, finally noticing the young stewardess standing over him. The woman smiled at him sweetly. Her clean navy blue uniform adorned around her perfect, petite frame. She was an adorable creature, but she wasn't the man's type.

"Oh," he said tiredly. "Here already?"

"Yes sir. Please fasten your seatbelt. We'll be there momentarily."

"Sweet," the man cried happily, putting on his seatbelt and tightening the strap.

The woman nodded and turned back to the aisle to tend to the other passengers.

"Oh, wait, wait," the man stopped her. "Could I get anoth-"

The stewardess turned to him with her arms crossed. "Sir, if you're asking for a hamburger, then I'm afraid to say that we're all out."

The man blinked. "Actually, I was gonna ask if I could get another bottle water to take with me," he said with a nervous chuckle.

The stewardess paused. "Oh, um... yes."

The man watched the woman walk down the aisle for his water. He smiled and turned back to the girl who was still staring at him. He grinned and winked at her.

"I really could go for another hamburger though," he said.

The girl only stared, pulling her Babar the Elephant plush close to her. She coughed a bit, her brown curly locks bounced as she did so, and turned back up front.

The man chuckled and relaxed in his chair. He reached into his shirt pocket pulling out a pair of glasses. He slipped them on, his slightly blurry vision now clear. He then leaned forward in the chair, reaching in the back of his pocket. The man pulled out his wallet and opened it excitedly. Inside he pulled out a small photo of a man with lighter blond hair. He was sitting at his desk, putting on a forced smile with tinted cheeks. He was wearing a green work jacket with a white button shirt underneath. The tall man wanted to take pictures of his coworkers that day, and he could tell the lighter blond wasn't up for it. He was going to make a collage to put it on the wall at the office. The lighter blond managed to swipe his photo before it could happen. It was the picture given to the younger man before he left. The closest thing he had to remember him by.

_-"Um... there's something I want you to have."-_

_-"Haha! You didn't get rid of it?"-_

_-"I dunno why, but something told me not to. D-don't you bloody dare go showing that around to anyone. I only want you to look at it and think of me."-_

_-"You don't want anyone to know I have a smokin' hot boyfriend? To every person I see, I'll flash this picture in there face and say: 'This is my boyfriend Arthur Kirkland! And he came ten times!'!"-_

_-"...give it here, git!"-_

_-"I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Hahaha!"-_

The taller man chuckled, remembering that day. That day his lover confessed to him. One of the most memorable moments of his life. He hated he had to leave then. If he had more time, he just wanted to take that man back to the bedroom and "celebrate" his happiness. Now he's coming back home. He didn't think it would be this soon.

...he _actually _didn't think he would come back at all.

_I can't believe I'm almost home. I never thought I'd come back. Arty's gonna piss his pants when he sees me. _

"Your water, sir."

The man turned to the stewardess and took his water. "Thanks again!"

"Mm-hm," the woman hummed before walking down the aisle.

The man put his water away and turned back to the picture. Seeing something moving out of the corner of his eye, he looked up, seeing the elephant plush peering behind the girl's chair. The man blinked then chuckled. Shortly after the girl's head also poked out, her huge eyes squinted with a giggle. The man made a face at her. The girl made one back, making a fish face with crossed eyes. Both laughed out, disrupting the other passengers. The girl's laughter died down as her mother nudged her and told her to sit back in her seat. The bifocal man also settled down, hating he got the girl in trouble. He adjusted his glasses before reaching up and turning the knobs of the air conditioning. He was oblivious to the annoyed glare his seat mate by the window was giving him as he sat back in his chair. He then noticed the little girl's hand was sticking out from behind the chair, and she was holding something. It was wrapped up nicely in paper with the airline's symbol designed on it. The man grinned. She was offering him her hamburger. Happily, the man reached out and took it.

"Thanks," he whispered to her.

The girl pulled her arm back up before quickly turning back him with a huge grin. One of her front teeth were missing. She then turned back front.

The man sighed, looking down at the sandwich with a small smile.

"Heh, I usually get one of these half-eaten..."

**00000000**

_~Freedom Unit Corporation~_

"Hello, Arthur," Ingrid greeted warmly, seductively.

The Brit, in mid-walk out the elevator, turned to his left, seeing the hot female staring at him hungrily.

"Oh," he said, with a raised brow. "Hello, Miss Ingrid." He started walking again, looking at the woman over his shoulder, who was still staring. The Brit turned back up front, still feeling her watching him.

_Odd..._

"Hi, Arthur," greeted another woman, cheerfully.

The Brit turned to his right, a bit startled to see someone popping out of nowhere. "Oh, ah..." Arthur blinked, seeing it was one out of several women who rarely talked to him. "Hello there... Miss Chloe?"

The bashful young woman, pressing documents in a manila envelop close to her chest, giggled.

"It's Cole, actually," she said, brushing her ash blond locks behind her ear. "Close enough!"

"Oh, right."

She giggled more. "Yeah."

The Brit blinked. "Right."

"I was um..." Cole began, pointing over her shoulder, "gonna grab a bite to eat. Would you like to um... ah..."

"Oh, no thank you," the Brit answered, showing the girl his rolled up sack with his half eaten turkey sandwich inside. "I've eaten."

"Oh, right. Right," she said blushing. "Um, how 'bout a Danish pas-"

"Miss Cole," Arthur interrupted with an apologetic smile. "I really must clock back in. Perhaps another time?"

"Oh! Absolutely! Absolutely..."

The confused Arthur nodded before carefully backing away. "Alright then."

The blushing woman hesitantly waved, backing away as well. "Alright."

"Bye then."

She giggled bashfully. "Bye..."

The Brit turned his back to her, continuing his walk to his cubicle.

_Very odd..._

"Good afternoon, Arthur. You're looking nice today. As always..."

The Brit turned to his shoulder, hearing the compliment from another woman. "Uh... thank you?"

"Hey, Arthur," the Brit heard a few women say from afar. He turned to see three grinning heads poked out from a cubicle, flirtatiously waving at the Englishman. Arthur lifted a brow again, hesitantly waving at them. Before Arthur knew it, every women had their eyes on him since he showed up. Feeling uncomfortable with all the stares, he continued walking to his cubicle. That was until he heard a man's voice.

"Hey, hey, hey! Arthur, my man!"

Arthur looked up seeing Antonio coming out from his cubicle and approaching him. The Brit's eyes widened. "Oh, bugger..."

The Hispanic man grinned and gave the Englishman a good slap on the back, nearly making poor Arthur fall over. "Arthur, you lucky dog you," Antonio laughed. "I didn't think you had it in you, man!"

The Brit recovered, rubbing his hurting back, and stared at the man confusingly. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked with a winced face. "Had what in me?"

"Don't act that way! Look around you."

Arthur did so, seeing the looks and grins from coworkers, mostly the women.

"The jig is up, Arthur," Antonio continued. "It looks like every cute lady in here got the hots for you."

"Beyond odd," the Brit muttered, turning back to the grinning Spanish man. "But why?"

Antonio chuckled with his arms crossed, and a shake of the head. "You're dating someone, right? Now that everyone knows, the girls want you. _Bad_."

The Brit rolled his eyes and snorted. "People still react to that even at this age?" he asked. "I thought that was for high school." He walked passed the man, but then paused. He turned back to him. "Um... how _exactly _did you all know that I was... dating someone?"

Other than Kiku, Heracles, and Brandy and the gang, the Brit didn't think anyone else knew about him and Alfred. But who else knew and spread it? Unless someone outside work came upon the "loud divas of Texas" known as Brandy, Chamise, Shonda, and Shea. Arthur could picture his lady friends cackling loudly about it at a restaurant, not caring if they were disrupting the customers from their dining. Not that the short blond would care if anyone found out he was gay, but having the _entire _staff find out would feel rather uncomfortable to him for some reason. Not to mention if they ever found out who his lover was. How can one react to see Arthur and Alfred together as _real_ lovers? Become speechless, with their mouths agape, cringe, then laugh afterwards?

...then stare blankly, not believing it once they realized it wasn't a joke, that it was in fact _true_?

"We've all been suspicious about you these past few months, man," Antonio replied. "The glow, the sprint in your step, being friendlier to the customers more than usual... _smiling _more."

Arthur squirmed slightly, blushing from ear to ear.

"But also..." The Hispanic continued, before grinning and pointed over the Brit's shoulder, "your cubicle is what gave it out."

Arthur's eyes narrowed and turned to where his work station was. On the floor, he noticed a trail of red rose petals down the aisle, leading to his private cubicle. Growing curious, Arthur carefully followed the trail, ignoring the amused stares and grins from the others. Once he made it over to his station he paused, dropping his closed coffee cup and lunch sack, eyes widened, jaw dropped, and face flushed. He couldn't believe what he saw before him.

"Bloody hell," he breathed.

Arthur's entire cubicle was filled with red roses, from his desk to the floor. It was like a floral shop. His nostrils was suffocating with the sweet smell of the bloomed flowers.

"Bloody hell," he repeated.

_So many. __**Too **__many... but how many...?_

"It's ten dozen," Antonio standing by Arthur said, as if he knew what the Brit was thinking. "That's what the delivery guys said how many there were. This lady friend of yours must really got it bad for you!"

Arthur looked around. Everything was filled with so much red, the Brit couldn't find the computer. His face tinted a dark shade, a little embarrassed, and pleased. Only one person was responsible for all this, and if the Brit ever saw them, he would be sure to bop them a good one. The short blond sighed then broke into a warm smile.

Antonio was right though. This "lady friend" _definitely _had it bad for him.

_Stupid git..._

He then spotted a white envelope nestled in one of the flowers. There was cursive writings in the middle that reads 'To Arthur.' Careful not to trip, he cautiously walked over to the note. He finally made it over to his desk and picked up the letter. He pulled out the note and began reading silently to himself.

'_Today makes 120. Each rose count the day I've been thinking about you, wanting you, and love you..._

_-AFJ'_

The Brit's smile had widen, his face grew a deeper shade of red. This was a moment he would never forget.

"Stupid git..." the love stricken Brit murmured, reading through the note again and again... and again... and _again_... and-

"Uh, Arthur?" Antonio spoke, tapping his shoulder.

"Hm...?" the Brit hummed, with love in his eyes, paying his focus on the card.

The Hispanic chuckled, pointing over Arthur's shoulder from behind. "Aren't you going to answer that?"

Arthur's phone was ringing. "Oh..." the Brit blinked turning back to his desk, searching for the phone through the jungle of roses. Placing one of the vases to the side, he spotted his dark gray phone. He picked it up as he pulled out his chair and sat.

"Thank you for calling Freedom Unit," he said dreamily, staring down at the note once again. "This is Arthur..."

"_Yes, Mr. Arthur," _the person on the line, who was a man replied. He too had an British accent. _"I was calling to see if you can help me with something."_

"Not a problem, sir," the Brit replied while logging on his computer. "What can I help you with today?"

"_Well, I've been thinking about this person who is __**ever **__so far away from me._ _And I was wanting to call to tell them how much they drive me bonkers in love."_

The Brit blinked. "Um, sir," he said, "are you here calling about your Freedom Unit credit card? Or is there someone here you're trying to contact?" Arthur figured, the caller was transferred to the wrong person. It would happen every once in a while. Each staff had their own transfer number and most were pretty close to each other. The Brit often had Kiku's transfer number (**45309**) mixed with Feliciano's (**45390)**.

"_Actually, I was trying to contact a man by the name of Mr. Arthur Kirkland," _the costumer answered. He then chuckled. _"He has the same first name as you. That's rather funny now, isn't it?"_

Arthur blinked some more. "_I'm_ Arthur Kirkland," he said.

"_Really now?" _the caller piped by surprise. _"It's a small world after all."_

The Brit frowned. "Quite," he said. "May I ask who's calling?"

"_Oh, terribly sorry. You want to know my name?"_

"Yes, sir," the Brit answered dryly. "Your name."

"_Yes, well... my name is Senoj Derfla ."_

The Brit made a face. "Senoj Derfla?" he said. "That's a rather strange name."

The caller laughed. _"Quite," _he replied. There was a long pause before the caller continued in a husky tone.

"_So, Mr. Kirkland... you're the chap that I've seen pictures of from your Facebook page? You sound as delicious as your sweet keister. I've spend countless hours getting myself off on your pictures, but it's not enough. I actually was hoping I..." _the caller paused with a sexy chuckle,_ "get a taste of the real deal..."_

Arthur grunted angrily. He was getting tried of this practical joke. "Look, if this is someone in the office pulling a prank, this is rather childish."

"_This is no joke, love. I'm being __**quite **__serious."_

"I'm hanging up now," the Brit spat harshly.

"_Not interested, I see?"_

"_Not _in the least. I don't even have a bloody Facebook."

The caller hummed humorously, pretending as if he was disappointed. _"You did say your name is Arthur Kirkland, now, did you not?"_

"There are a million people whose name is Arthur Kirkland! You obviously have the wrong fucking one!"

"_I bet you're ten times as adorable, Mr. Kirkland. That potty mouth of yours sounds dirty enough to shove anything inside, if you know what I me-"_

"Alright, you know what?" the small blond hissed slamming his fist on the desk. His entire face was boiling red and his breathing staggered. Prank or not, Arthur was getting sick of this man. "I've had enough of your shit! Don't call here again, or I will call the police to have them trace this call! And what the fuck kind of name is a Senoj Derf..." Arthur paused.

The caller snickered.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, placing a free palm to his face. Seconds later, he laughed.

The caller also laughed.

The Brit pulled his hand away, shaking his head. "You got me," he chuckled.

"_I did," _the caller replied happily, British accent completely gone. _"I was hoping, I'd get you long enough to make you blow your top. Mission accomplished!"_

Arthur reached out rotating one of the porcelain vases. "If you weren't so damn cute, I'd hang up on you." The Brit grinned, leaning in, and inhaling one of the fully bloomed buds.

The caller chuckled. _"Thank God my mom was hot." _

Arthur smiled. Then he blinked, feeling he was being watched. He turned his chair around, looking out his cubicle door. He watched a few of his coworkers staring. They jumped, getting caught and turned back to their work.

"_Do you like them?" _the caller asked the Brit.

Arthur turned back to the roses on his desk. "I adore them," he answered sweetly. He blinked again. He looked up at his cubicle walls to see a few heads poking out, staring. Each startled head ducked down like a wave.

"_And the card?"_

The Brit turned to the card and picked it up. He read through it once more. "I love it," he answered. "Thank you."

"_You're welcome."_

The Brit sighed happily.

/"I truly miss you, Alfred.

"_I miss you, Arthur."_/

The Brit blushed from hearing each other confess at the same time. Both he and the American on the other line then chuckled.

"One hundred twenty days," Arthur murmured. "Has it really been that long? It feels like forever."

"_I know," _the American replied. _"I miss you a lot, Arthur. I miss your touch, your eyes, your face, your body..."_

"Stop it," the Brit said with a grin.

"_I miss your smile the most," _the American continued._ "Are you smiling now?"_

Arthur blushed, grinning wider. "No," he lied.

Alfred laughed. _"You're a bad lair."_

"Oh really?"

"_Normally when you say 'no' you put forceful emphasis on that word."_

Arthur blushed more. The git was right.

"_Also I can tell you're blushing because you have a shortness of breath."_

"Ah..." the Brit gasped.

Alfred snickered. _"Wanna know how I know that I can tell when you're horn-"_

"S-stop that!"

The American laughed out.

"You nasty little devil," the Brit said with a smirk. Then his eyes narrowed. "How _can _you tell exactly...?"

"_The tone in your voice changes slightly. A little deeper. You usually breathe out some words."_

"Alright, now you're just creeping me out," the Brit replied blinking by surprised while the man on the other line cackled. The tiniest things Arthur would do that he wasn't aware, Alfred knew. As disturbing as it was, Arthur thought it was sweet. "What... other little things you know about me?" he asked.

"_When you're excited about something," _the American answered,_ "your seem lighter when you walk. Like you could float at any second. It's amusing to watch."_

"Well, I'm glad I can be entertaining for you, git," the Brit replied, sticking his tongue out at the phone.

The American snorted a laugh. _"Wish I can taste that nice tongue of yours right now," _he said.

Arthur cupped his mouth shut. He stood from his chair, peering over his cubicle walls. "Honestly," he said nervously. "Are you watching me from afar? My cubicle's not ridged with spy cameras is it?"

"_No, but we should try that next time. When I'm on my lunch break, I could eat a sandwich while watching you getting off underneath your desk on my laptop." _

"Alfred..." the Brit groaned rolling his eyes while hearing his lover laughing. "You're impossible."

"_You can't hang up on me," _the American teased. _"I'm too cute. Remember?"_

"Yes, but you're also holding up the line. I have clients who need my assistance."

"_But I'm one of your __**regular **__clients aren't I?"_

The Brit chuckled. "Alfred, the only time you call needing help with something, it's always you asking me if I'm wearing any underwear today or not."

"_No, no," _the taller man said humorously. _"I'm serious. It's not gonna be the underwear question this time."_

"Alfred, I really have to go, love. I'll call you after wor-"

"_Come on! This is gonna be awesome! And it's really important. Pretty Pleeeeasssseee... with sugar on top?"_

Arthur rolled his eyes. Every time the git would call, he would find everything in his power to stall their conversation. The Brit sometimes wondered why their long distance relationship couldn't be normal like other couples. Mostly more mature. Giving in, Arthur sighed, throwing up a hand.

"Fine," he said. "And what can I do for you today, Mr. Jones?"

"_Turn around."_

Arthur paused, heart fluttered, body trembling. If he didn't know any better, he thought he heard his boyfriend _very _close other than over the phone. As careful as he could, as if who or whatever was behind him would vanished, he turned his chair around slowly. When finally turning all the way, he saw a tall figure standing outside the doorway. There before him was a handsome short blond man, wearing a blue button down casual shirt with a white shirt underneath. The blue shirt was tucked underneath loose jeans, and he wore black converse shoes. The man had one hand in his pocket, and the other was holding an iPhone. He lowered the phone, cocked his head to the side slightly, the light hitting the glasses he wore which caused a glare, followed by the man's sweet smile.

"What's up?" he greeted quietly, warmly. The Brit's phone slipped from his fingers when he realized his lover was standing there before him. He just sat there, stunned, surprised, happy. He was having trouble budging.

It had been one hundred-twenty days...

"Al..." was all the Brit's cracked voice could get out.

...and there he was. Alfred was back.

"I was gonna surprise you after work, but I couldn't wait. I had to see ya," Alfred grinned as he slipped his phone in his back pocket. His eyes and smile had soften. "You look good."

"Ah..." Arthur breathed, speechless. "Y...yes. S-so do you."

The American chuckled at his boyfriend's behavior. "So," he began, "how should we do this? Shake hands? Hug? Kiss? Do the 'Ricky-Ticky-Tick-Tock Da-'"(*)

The Brit sprang from his chair, knocking over several of the vases on the floor as he dashed over to the taller blond. With a bright laugh, he cried out, "You fucking git!" and leapt towards him, wrapping his arms around the man's neck and his legs around his waist.

Alfred laughed out in reply, circling his arms around his lover tightly, making sure he got a good whiff of the Brit's wonderful scent before setting him back down. Arthur broke the hug half way, not believe the man was right there in front of him. It was too good to be true. But there he was. In his arms. Handsome as he always was… looking a little sleep deprived to Arthur, but he still had his cheerful smile and glow.

"My god," the Brit murmured, shaking his head, staring up at the taller one. "Fucking when? How long?"

"Just a few hours ago," the younger blond replied with a grin. "A few coworkers almost gave me away when I showed up. I was lucky to keep them quiet before they shouted my name from afar."

The git had it all planned. After he arrived from the airport, he called the floral company and ordered the roses. He gave them specific directions on what he wanted done. He then told them not to bring it to the address until he called them back. He knew when Arthur was on his lunch break he would call him first. Sure enough, the Brit did. He told Arthur he had to make an important phone call, dialed the floral company, and gave them the okay. The taller blond called his lover back, grinning ear to ear, knowing Arthur was in for a huge surprise after lunch.

"This whole time while we were on the phone you git?" Arthur said, playfully smacking Alfred in the back of the head. "I should kick you in the tonker for-"

"Um, gentlemen?"

Both blonds paused when they heard a person clearing their throat to get their attention. In unison, they turned their heads to a brunette with his arms crossed.

Roderich. The boss.

"Oh," Arthur murmured turning to Alfred who was grinning. He turned back to the Austrian. "Mr. Roderich. Look, it's," He turned back to the cheesing American, then back at the Austrian. "Alfred's here."

"I can see that," the Austrian replied, not sounding the least bit interested.

"I heard the little commotion all the way in my office." He turned to the former employer. "Good to see you again, Alfred."

"Heh," the taller blond replied, still having the Brit in his hold, "Same to you, Rod."

The manager took one look at the hugging blonds. He hummed, cleared his throat, and adjusted his glasses. "Do I get one also?" the Austrian asked sarcastically.

Alfred laughed. "If ya want," he joked.

Awkward Arthur slowly, very slowly pulled away from his boyfriend after getting looks from not only Roderich but the amused coworkers as well. "Um," the Brit stammered, blushing. "This is uh, we're-"

"Shall I put you back on the schedule, Alfred?" Roderich asked, cutting off Arthur.

"Oh, um," Alfred chuckled lightly, slipping both hands into his pocket. "Not quite yet." Arthur blinked, eyes soften, disappointed from that answer.

"So, you're just visiting?" he asked.

"Yeah," Alfred answered, sounding just as disappointed. "I'm just here for the weekend. My flight leaves Tuesday."

Arthur sighed, but then looked on the bright side. He would get to spend time with the git. Even if it's just for four short… _extremely _short, quick days, he would be sure to make it all count.

"It is good to see you are doing well," the boss pointed out, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "But don't disrupt my _coworkers_." He turned to Arthur.

The Brit blinked, looking like a deer in front of headlights.

Alfred let out his usual hearty laugh. "Hey, I work here too."

"Not if you're temporary not on the schedule." Roderich pulled his hand away and walked pass the couple. "Go and greet your friends, Alfred, but don't get too comfortable."

"I won't!" Alfred grinned, waving at the Austrian walking back to his office.

The two blonds watched as their boss closed his office door.

Arthur glared. "He's in a jolly mood," he murmured.

Alfred turned to him and grinned, nudging him playfully. "He's probably jealous," he said.

"Really now?" the Brit replied, grinning back. "Jealous?"

"Well, there are a lot more responsibilities as manager right?" the taller blond smirked with a wink. "We work hard also, but we get to have a _little _fun on the side."

"Watch it," Arthur warned with a blush. "Really, now, git. You just got here."

"But it's true. If some of us are lucky we might be able to fall asleep or sneak out of the office all day without getting caught. What did you think I was talking about?"

The Brit blushed more. "Those attempts aren't as bold as what we've done."

"Oh!" Alfred beamed. "You mean se-"

The Brit took a huge step toward the taller man, cupping his mouth shut with both hands before he could finish the sentence. "My god! Shut your potty mouth, git!"

Alfred blinked muffling behind the Brit's mouth, glasses crooked. He blinked some more trailing his eyes side to side to see the coworkers preoccupied, but not from their work. Confused looks. Amused stares. Shared snickering. The office brought their focus on Alfred and Arthur.

The Brit pulled his hands away from the American and turned to his fellow Freedom Unit team.

"What the hell are you bloody people staring at?" he asked.

A smile spread across Alfred's face. "Yeah. You act as if you never seen a couple reuniting before."

The office grew quiet.

Arthur's face paled and slowly turned his head to the grinning American.

Suddenly Antonio laughed.

"You better not let Arthur's girlfriend hear you say that, my friend," he said. "She's got Arthur wrapped around her finger."

"Huh?" Alfred said with a smirk, placing a hand underneath his chin. "Does this explain the flowers then?"

"_Si_. _Intenso _love!"

"Ahhhh..." the American turned to the blushing Brit and winked. "What's she like?"

Arthur looked around noticing all the curious looks from the other coworkers. He raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.

"Well if you must know," he began, playing along. "She's a happy go lucky and _loud mouthed _blond who takes the joy of being _nosy_, wanting things done _her _way, and enjoys _eating_ everything in sight." Arthur turned to the chuckling coworkers before turning to Alfred who pouted. It looked disgustingly adorable to the Brit. Arthur then smiled at him, adding, "...aside from all that... she's the best thing that ever happened in my life." The Brit heard a few of the female coworkers giggle while others sighed dreamlike. He turned back to Alfred with a wink.

Alfred grinned.

"She's must make you really happy," Antonio said, smiling.

"Indeed," Arthur replied with a flushed face. "She does."

"_Bueno! _Keep that smile on your face my friend." The Spanish grinned patting the Brit on the back before walking back to his cubicle. "You'll have the ladies crawling to you in no time!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Uh, one is enough for me. Thank you."

The American chuckled before looking up. He grinned, waving. "Hey, Kiku! Heracles!"

The Brit turned seeing the small Asian and the slow pace Grecian coming out of the elevator. He smiled and turned to Alfred. "Go and say hello to them," he said. "I'm going to my cubicle."

The American grinned. "I won't take long," he replied, before he leaned in, giving the shorter blond a quick soft peck on the cheek.

The Brit paused stiff.

Alfred pulled away with a sweet smile. "Be back," he said before going over to Kiku and Heracles.

The red face Brit turned to the others to see if they saw what the American did. Luckily, it appeared that the team went back to work. Sighing he went back to his cubicle. He picked the vases that he mauled over earlier and placed them to the side so he could have a clearing for the taller blond. He sat back in his chair and went to work... which was being love struck. His boyfriend was here. How was he was suppose to stay focus on his tasks? Seriously... Alfred was _here_. The love of his life returned from god knows where. The Brit was going to be sure to fix Alfred a hearty meal fit for a king after work, pamper him, and fuck each other for countless hours until Arthur's ass would be so raw, he couldn't sit properly for a whole month.

Of course it would be worth it.

After hurrying Arthur's customer off the phone, he gathered his documents, continuing to "work" while waiting for his git to return. As he was gazing through the papers, they suddenly turned into a pair of hands, growing bigger before Arthur's eyes. It didn't take the Brit long to realize that someone behind him cupped his eyes closed. They were warm, and they had the git's scent.

"Guess who?" the intruder asked with a chuckle.

Arthur grinned. "What do I win if I guess correctly?" he asked.

"Hmmmm," the person hummed. "How 'bout a victory screech?"

Arthur snorted. "Don't you dare, Alfred!"

"That's correct! Victory screech!" With that being said, the American pulled his hands away from the Brit, flung his hands over his head, and made a horrific high pitch squeal so loud, the whole office grew quiet.

Arthur turned his chair around and quickly struck the taller blond in his stomach. Of course Alfred didn't budge from that weak blow, but it did stop his cry before he snickered at the look the Brit was giving him.

"Are you trying to get your arse kicked out of here, wanker?" Arthur asked with annoyance.

Alfred only grinned as he went over to the desk. He moved a few of the vases to the side before sitting, facing his lover.

"If I do, I'm taking ya with me," he said.

"Sorry, but I rather keep my job, thank you very much," the Brit replied as he took his computer mouse, scanning though documents on the monitor.

Alfred pouted. "That's so not cool," he muttered.

"Honestly, Alfred. Don't make that face. It makes me want to put a bib on you that says 'I'm not retarded. I was born this way.'"

Alfred pouted more. "_Totally_ not cool," he said.

Arthur's lips were quivering, and his shoulders slightly shook. He was surprised on how well he was doing on keeping his laugh in. Even though the American was the humorous one in the relationship, the Englishman also had his share of jokes and tease. The Brit paid his focus on his work as his boyfriend sat quietly on his desk. From the corner of his eye, he watched Alfred pull one of the roses out of the vase, slowly rotating it with his fingers, and being careful not to prick himself. He wondered how much the git paid for them. It was really sweet and romantic, but he didn't have to do it. Seeing him show up was enough to make Arthur's day. Unfortunately, the burger lover's presence was keeping him from his work task. He had to be sure to contact the people that would be interested in having a F.U. credit card, help the clients who have questions about their card, and touch base with the ones with their outstanding balances.

Shit... this wasn't as fun as having the git here. He would rather make an exception of going with Alfred if he got kicked out for being disruptive after all.

"Blimey, I hate this job," the Brit murmured to himself.

The American turned to the smaller blond. He held the end stem of the rose before holding it out and gently brushing the red bud across Arthur's cheek. He watched the Brit shiver from the contact. He silently continued trailing the flower underneath his chin, a few petals broke off landing on the Brit's lap. Alfred grinned, trailing the flower to the other cheek.

The Brit shivered more. "Alfred."

The git made no reply. He moved the rose down to Arthur's slightly exposed neck.

"Alfred."

"Hm?" the taller blond said, lightly tapping Arthur's nose with it.

The Brit glared up at him from the corner of his eye.

"Stop that."

Alfred continued tapping his nose with the rose. "I'm bored," he said.

"Help me with these calls if you're bored."

Alfred made an annoying whine, finally pulling the rose away. "That's beyond boring. Let's get outta here. Plus I'm hungry."

"Alfred," the Brit said, turning his chair around to face the American, "are you implying that I should ditch work?"

"At least have one of the guys here finish off your tasks so you can have the rest of the day off."

"There's no one here who will be _stupid _enough to work on someone else's tasks, git."

Alfred chuckled, taking the rose and tapping it on Arthur's nose once again. "Yes. There. Is," he said in rhythm with the tapping bud on the tip of the Brit's nose.

Arthur turned a full shade of red, remembering doing that small favor for the busty coworker Ingrid that day she was feeling ill... or so she said. The Brit grunted brushing the rose away from his face.

"For the last time. She wasn't feeling well, and I didn't mind helping."

Alfred grinned wider. "Oh, I _know_."

This time it was Arthur's turn to pout as he glared at Alfred who gave him a flirting wink.

For two lovers like Arthur and Alfred, some things never changed.

The Brit sighed and turned to his desk. He pulled out his drawer and fetched his car keys. He had been meaning to give Alfred this if he ever returned. He was hesitant to talk to him about it over the phone. But now that he was here, then maybe...

"Did you drive here?" he asked while pulling one of the keys off the key ring.

"Yup," the American replied happily. "It's a rental. My old girl's still in the storage."

After the Brit's second attempt, he finally got the silver key off the ring. He shyly handed it to Alfred.

The taller blond blinked looking down at it. "What's this?" he asked.

Arthur turned back to his computer, going over his client's information. Keeping his cool, but his cheeks were rosier than all the flowers put together in that tight space cubicle.

"It's a bloody key," he answered. "The hell do you think it is?"

"Uh, yeah," the American said with a chuckle and a shrug. "But where does it go to?"

"You canceled your contract from your apartment, right?"

"Yeah."

The nervous Brit clicked the computer mouse a few times. It suddenly felt a little slick. Arthur then knew that his palms were now sweaty.

_This was a stupid idea! What the bloody hell am I thinking?_

Alfred, meanwhile, was a little confused with his lover's behavior. Why was he asking about his apartment? The taller blond blinked by realization.

"Oh! Well, I was going to reserve a hote-"

"No," the Brit cut him off, still staring dead at the computer.

"Well, I'v-"

"Don't waste your money on those fucking bed bug infested places."

Alfred blinked some more. He looked down at the key again. It looked new. Brand new. It was glinting brightly from the lights above them. It nearly blinded him. Alfred suddenly opened his mouth, coming to another realization.

_Is this a spare key to his apartment?_

Alfred turned to his lover whose face was still glued to the computer screen. The American was fully convinced. It _had _to be a spare. What else could it have been? That's what most couples do when they love each other.

Arthur wanted Alfred to move in with him.

The American's eyes soften. "Arty-"

"Take it before I bloody change my mind," the Brit interrupted again, still not looking up at him. "Keep it as long as you want. You can use it as many times as you want. I insist."

Alfred looked down at the key again, nestled in the palm of his hand, then back at his boyfriend. He was touched, pleased, happy... but sad. He loved this British man from head to toe, every strand of hair on his head, mole, old scar, and wrinkles on him. How would he be able to fly back Tuesday without storming down the aisle of the plane, violently maul the flight stewardesses, and head straight to the cockpit, demanding the pilot to turn the plane back around? He wasn't sure when he would see him again. Another four months? A year? He didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't stay with him. Not _yet _anyway.

The taller blond closed his eyes and sighed, holding the key out to the Brit.

"Art-"

Before Alfred could get anything out, Arthur reached out his hand, and made the American close his palm with the key still at tow.

The Brit turned to him, staring him dead in his eyes. He squeezed Alfred's fist tighter.

"Alfred," he said quietly, "I'm giving you this key because you are my boyfriend. And however bloody long it takes, whenever you come back, my home is your home... no matter how many times I move, I'll just keep making you a spare key. Keep it..."

The taller man smiled warmly. That was what he wanted to hear. If Arthur was willing to wait for him for as long as he lived, he could now leave Tuesday with no regrets. With a relieved sigh, Alfred lifted his fist with Arthur's hand still placed on top. He leaned his head and pressed his lips on the Brit's knuckles. His blue orbs flashed opened, staring at the blushing Englishman.

"You're awesome, you know that?" Alfred murmured on the Brit's hand.

Arthur flashed a warm smile. "Well, I hope so. It took me ten seconds to come up with that speech."

Alfred grinned. "New record! Great job!"

"I love you, git."

The American chuckled, kissing the Brit's hand once more. "I love you too."

The Brit sat up slightly in his chair, stretching out his neck as if he was leaning for a kiss. He paused and hesitated.

The American grinned. "If you're not ready to spread the word to the others, I'll understand," he murmured.

The Brit snorted. "Caught or not. I've been missing these lips for one hundred twenty days. I'm not going to wait a hundred and twenty more." The Brit leaned his body closer to the American who was meeting him halfway. Alfred carelessly tossed the rose he was holding in his hand and used it to cup the Brit's warm cheek. Arthur closed his eyes, waiting to take the plunge, before he winced in pain when he felt his cheek being squeezed and tugged.

"Ow! The bloody hell?" The frowning Brit opened his eyes and saw the American not looking at him, but at something else.

"Heh! Hey!" the taller man said rather loudly as if he got caught doing something. "I'm almost done! I'm just giving Arty here my Grandma's famous cheek squeeze."

The Brit brushed Alfred's hand off his hurting cheek and turned to his cubicle door, stunned and embarrassed to see Roderich standing outside with his arms folded once again.

"Mr. Jones," his deadpanning voice said.

The taller blond blinked. "Yeah?"

"Leave. Now."

"Eh, gotcha."

The boss glared at the Brit. It was the "get your ass to work look." Arthur didn't hesitate and went back to his computer. Roderich turned and went back to his office.

Alfred shivered. "Wow. He _is _in a good mood today," he said before turning to Arthur. "How's your cheek?"

The Brit turned his chair to his lover. "I've been through worse pain," he replied, rubbing his sore face. "You better skedaddle before he returns with a piano over our heads."

The American smiled at him before holding up his index finger, wriggling it back and forth.

Arthur blinked, looking confused.

"C'mere," the taller blond quietly ordered.

The Brit used his feet to drag the chair closer to the American enough for Alfred to cup the Brit's chin, lean in and press his lips against his cheek. Arthur's whole body heated up with just that simple kiss to the cheek. He closed his eyes and sighed in bliss. It was good enough.

The American pulled away slightly with a smile before giving him another peck. "Feel better?"

Arthur turned to him and grinned. "Quite," he answered.

"Awesome."

Arthur pulled away and turned back to his work. "Right, then," he sighed. "Oh, before you go, what do want to eat tonight?"

"Ah, no way!" Alfred objected. "It's time for me to cook you something. Remember?"

Arthur blinked. "But aren't you exhausted? It's really no trouble."

The taller blond shook his head. "I said I would cook for you next time. I really want to."

The Brit looked doubtful, visioning the kitchen table filled with hamburgers, fries, pizza, onion rings, candy, and other greasy and fattening junk food that would possibly make Arthur die before he could reach thirty.

"Could we settle for something inspired by Chef Ramsey and _not _Ronald McDonald?"

"Don't worry! I'm gonna whip up something that's a thousand times better than their dish! I already told ya I _know _what I wanna cook for ya! When you come home this evening, you're not gonna recognized the kitchen!" The American hopped off the desk and walked toward the exit.

The Brit blinked and turned his chair, watching his love leave. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Alfred turned back to his lover while walking backwards. "The grocery store," he answered. "Want anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

"You most certainly are, babe!" the git teased, holding out both his index fingers at the Brit, clicking his tongue twice, and winked. "I'll call ya!" With that, the young blond jogged off, saying bye to the others on his way out.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Blimey."

* * *

**Happy about this chapter? *shakes head* Neither am I. I hope I get back into writing, because it feels like it's been so long. I'm also working on the second chapter of "Recipe for Love" slowly but surely. Thanks for taking the time to read, guies!**

**~See dem stars~**

**1. **The American chuckled at his boyfriend's behavior. "So," he began, "how should we do this? Shake hands? Hug? Kiss? Do the 'Ricky-Ticky-Tick-Tock Da-'"(*) **(Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim are like the Gods of comedy (in my book anyway). At the time I couldn't get into their first show on Adult Swim **_**Tom Goes to the Mayor**_**. The one scene I liked in one episode is where they were doing this random "Ricky-Ticky-Tick-Toc" dance. Can you fuckin' imagine America and Britain doing that dance with Germany in the background going: "WTFITS?"? Classic, man! Classic!**

**stay tuned and be safe!**

**-Hoggy**


	2. And it was still hot

**Fluffy chapter is ****EXTREMELY**** fluffy (with humourous sex... SPOILER... wait i already said that): **I mean, that's what it pretty much is anyway. What the hell ya'll want me to say? Shit! Read da chapter and have a sandwich, biaoch! *huffs*

...

*playfully tap the readers in the back with her barefoot* Wuv Youuuuuuuuuuu! 8b

****Another special thanks to this chapter beta reader: ****Sarah**** (wuv you toooo)**

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**_**(I moved in with Tetsuya Nomura... Hide-chan dumped me D:)**

**BFFF: Love Will Make it Certain**

**-02-**

Arriving at Arthur's apartment complex, Alfred parked his rental car at the visitor parking lot. He made two trips, getting all the groceries first and his luggage last. He easily settled in, having to look around the Brit's place. It still looked the same when he first left that day. The only thing that was different was those hideous plum color curtains replaced by a soft golden brown one. He grinned.

"I should have known nothing's changed here," he thought out loud.

After being away for so long, Alfred felt right at home.

The American went to the kitchen, getting ready to prepare dinner. He remembered the Brit helping himself to a second plate when he made breakfast that day at his place, so it was obvious he enjoyed his cooking. Even if he did make burgers and fries, he was sure Arthur would eat it. Alfred had always been good at cooking, long before he worked at the deli downtown. His coworkers there who were all women were heartbroken when he told them he'll be away for a while. They were crying their eyes out, paying no mind to the customers that were waiting for their order or order to be taken. They desperately wanted him to stay, knowing it wouldn't be the same without him. The workers at ICOM hated to see him go also. He had to be sure to pay them all a visit before he went back.

Alfred rummaged through all of the Brit's cabinets, pulling out pots and pans. Arthur had every utensil he needed. It was time for the master at work. He couldn't wait to prepare the surprise for his British love. The happy-go-lucky blond's train of thought broke when his cell phone went off in his back pocket. The ring tone was playing some Beatles song _The Long and Winding Road_. He pulled it out and immediately answered it.

"Yeah."

There was silence first. Then the person on the other line finally spoke.

"_You don't have to sound so serious each time I call, you know," _the caller replied annoyingly.

Alfred turned back to the running water, filling the pot halfway. "Psh. How am I supposed to sound?" he asked seriously, carrying the pot to the stove. "Happy? Sad? Both are going head to head, and the suspense is killing the hell out of me."

"_Well, for the record it's not sad n-"_

"Great. Are we done? Cuz I was since you opened your mouth," Alfred rudely interrupted, reaching for his grocery bag, and pulling out all the items.

The caller sighed. _"You know, would it kill you to greet me properly? It's not like I'm Hitler."_

"You're _absolutely _right. You're not Hitler. It's your bastard friend who thinks you're one of God's lil' angel who's the real Hitler. You're more like, uh..." the blond paused as he went over to the stove. "Hm... who's the chick who was standing up for Britney Spears and made an ass of herself on the internet?"

"_Alfred-" _

"Wait. I got it. You're more like Sarah Palin."

"_Alfred, please..."_

The American adjusted the knob on the stove before going to the cabinet, getting some cooking oil, seasonings, and other condiments. He grabbed the frying pan and placed it on the heat eye next to the pot.

"So..." he began nicely, "how are you today... Pinoccio?"

The caller on the other end made a disapproving noise. _"Alfred-"_

"That's it!" the blond cried sarcastically. "Definitely Pinoccio! He totally suits you! You know, he also turns into a jackass in the movie."

"_Look, you're being..." _the caller raised their voice, but paused. They then talked in a much lower voice. _"Alfred, this is... __**so**__ unfair! I'm trying really hard to make this work."_

"Well try harder," the blond said coldly. "It's going to take a long ass time to make up for what you did."

There was a pause. Then finally...

"_Alfred... I know what I did was-"_

"I'm only going to say this once," the American warned. "Unless this is an emergency call, stop wasting my time."

The caller sighed, giving up. _"Alright, alright. I'm sorry... J-just a moment."_

Alfred too let out a sigh as he leaned against the counter with his arm wrapped around his torso, holding the phone in his other hand, waiting. A few seconds later, Alfred broke into a warm smile.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked sweetly.

**00000000**

"Well, I think that about covers everything, Miss Harris... you are most welcome. ...just reach me in this number if you have any more questions... bye then."

Arthur took a huge sigh of relief, after getting off the phone with his last customer of the day. All his tasks were completed, and he was eager to get the hell out of this office and see Alfred.

_-buzzzz-_

The Brit reached into his drawer and pulled out his cell phone that was going off. He tapped the touch screen, seeing it was a call from Alfred. Smiling, the Brit answered.

"Hey, gorgeous."

Alfred chuckled on the other end. _"Hey, yourself. Finished your tasks?"_

"I have." Arthur held the phone with his shoulder while gathering his papers and stacking them in a nice pile. "How's dinner coming along?"

"_It's going kickass! I think you're gonna like it."_

Arthur grinned while putting the papers in a file drawer. "It better not be burgers and fries."

"_It's not. Promise! Oh, just promise me one thing."_

Arthur rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Which is...?"

"_Call me as soon as you pull up. I wanna show you the surprise."_

"More surprises? Are you trying to make me love you more?"

The American snickered. _"Is it working?"_

"Yes. Yes it is."

_-knock knock-_

The Brit frowned from that knock, not looking forward to mingling with the cubicle intruder. He turned back to the phone. "Gotta go."

"_Okay. Don't forget. Promise me?"_

"Right, right. I'll wait outside. Promise."

"_Thanks! Love ya, babe!"_

Arthur chuckled. "Love you," he replied. He then turned his attention to the visitor. "Come in," he said while gathering his documents in his briefcase. The Brit turned his chair to see who it was. It was Antonio. "Ah, Mister Antonio. What can I do for you?"

_Leaving is your only option. _

"Well, I'm glad you asked, my friend," the Spanish man answered as he sat on Arthur's desk, making himself comfortable.

Arthur's eye twitched slightly.

_Making yourself at home is not an option._

"A few of the coworkers and myself were thinking about eating out at Fiesta's tonight. And if you want, you can bring your pretty lady friend. Everyone's dying to see her."

Arthur blushed as he turned to his desk, closing his case and shutting down his computer.

"Oh, well... we already have plans actually," he explained.

"Ah, come on. Postpone it and come eat with us. You're not ashamed of her are you? Surely she's not ugly."

"Of course not!" Arthur replied defensively. "He's _highly _attractive... _she_ is! She is..."

The Brit turned to his briefcase and trailed his eyes side to side, hoping his visitor didn't get suspicious on his little mistake.

Antonio nodded with a smile. He leaned over, patting the Brit on the shoulder. "Well, we are meeting up tonight at nine," he said before standing and walking to the exit. "You and Alfred are more than welcome to stop by."

Arthur nodded back as he closed his briefcase. "Right," he murmured. "Thanks."

_..._

The Brit paused.

_Wait... what?_

He sprang from his chair, and reached for the Spanish man. He ignored Antonio's gagging noise as he grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him back in his cubicle. He slammed the confused Hispanic down in the chair and looked at him hard.

"What do you mean 'You and Alfred are more than welcome to stop by'?" he quoted to the scared man.

Antonio swallowed and nodded slowly. "_S-si_... it's like I said," he said carefully.

Arthur glared at him hard, clenching tighter to Antonio's now wrinkled collar.

The Hispanic chuckled, holding his hands up in defense. "Whoa, easy, _amigo_," he said. "I didn't say anything to anybody nor anyone said anything to me. I just had a hunch. When I saw you sweating bullets after Alfred blurted out about that 'reuniting' thing, that's when I butted in. I figured you didn't want anyone to know you two were dating and-"

The Brit clenched hard enough to rip Antonio's shirt slightly, hissing, "If you dare say _one _word to anyone in this office, so _help _me-"

"Arthur," Antonio said with a grin while trying to carefully peel away from the man's clutches. "You can trust me, man. Hey, I wish you and Alfred all the happiness in the world. You deserve it. I hope you'll announce it to the others one day."

The Brit blinked and released the man.

_Wait. What's the point of me hiding in the shadows because of my sexuality? Who bloody cares how the others feel? I __**am**__ happy._

"I am, Mister Antonio," he said. "I truly am. I'm happy being who I am, and I'm going to fucking prove it. _Right _now." He grabbed his things, and left his cubicle leaving the baffled Antonio behind. Standing in the middle of the aisle, he watched the other coworkers closing up their station and mingling. Taking a deep breath, the Brit held up his hand.

"Excuse me! Can I have everyone's attention before you leave?"

One by one, each coworker's head popped out from their cubicle turning their attention to the Brit in the middle of the office. Most of the room grew quiet, but there was faint chattering from the back.

Arthur swallowed hard, feeling like a nervous, snotty nose 3rd grader doing show and tell. The Englishman made scenes before in the past, whether it was solo or with another coworker, mostly Alfred. But he knew this action was going to take the cake. There would always be some main attraction that was enough to keep the F.U. team entertained. This action was the _only _thing to keep them awake at eight in the morning. Arthur wasn't sure how this special treat would turn out. He felt like he was getting ready to come clean and tell them about he had some sort of heroin addiction. More like an Alfred addiction. Fuck, he would get stone off that drug 24/7.

Smoke it. Snort it. Inject it. Drink it. Inhale it. Overdose it.

"Sometime this year, Arthur," the Brit heard the German Ludwig call out, sounding impatient.

"Ah," Arthur Brit's little daydream, made his pants feel slightly snugged. "Shit..."

The Brit cleared his throat, taking his briefcase and _casually _covered his front area. It was happening? Now?

_Shit... I got a fucking boner. A __**fucking **__boner!_

"Arthur, what's going on?" Sadiq asked.

"Oh, well, um..." Thankful that he was good with multitasking after working at the office for years, Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet while still hiding his excited "Arthur Junior" with his briefcase. He dug his finger into one of the pouches and pulled out a picture of Alfred. He held it up. "Do you see this man in this picture?" he asked, slowly circling around, making sure everyone could see. He could see a few people squinting their eyes to see who the person in the photo was.

"Who is it?" someone from the far back yelled out.

"So glad you asked, Charlie," the Brit replied, walking slowly down the aisle. "In this picture is Alfred F. Jones. Now, I'm sure you all are wondering why the bloody hell I'm carrying a picture of the guy I can't stand?" The Brit turned around, walking backwards, still holding up the picture. "Well, I just so happen to be in love with this man." Arthur paused, letting the crowd take in their reactions. "That's right! _This _is my mystery lady friend. And the roses at my desk, those are in fact from Alfred. I... Arthur Kirkland love Alfred F. Jones, and he loves me back, and we're both happy. Even though most of you in here are probably not into the gay relationship thing, I certainly hope this doesn't change anything about us. And if it does, well... you can just kiss my arse. That is if you're into that sort of thing."

The Brit stopped in front of the elevator and pressed the button. He turned back to the crowd. "And for those of you who are _deeply _curious," he contiued as he heard the doors behind him opening. He walked backwards inside. "He made me come ten times."

With that being said, the Brit pressed his destination and looked ahead. The last thing he saw before the doors closed in front of him were countless jaw dropping employees, including Roderich himself who was standing outside his office.

The Brit turned red from the neck up, realizing what he just did twenty seconds ago.

_Bloody hell._

The Brit dropped his things and walked backwards until his back hit the wall. He cupped his mouth, stunned with himself. He confessed his feelings for Alfred in front of his team. His boss. Everyone!

"Bloody hell," he muffled behind his hand.

What wacky person like that would just up and confess about his sexuality, and who they had been screwing? Arthur Kirkland would of course, not that hamburger loving git. Considering how he told Alfred about not wanting to let anyone else know about their relationship until he felt ready. The Brit's own parents didn't even know yet, and he was sure they would be the first to know. So much for that. The American's boldness was rubbing off of him, and he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

Whatever. He liked it.

Arthur's body trembled and he let out a snort. Then a snicker. Finally the Brit was in a fit of cackles. He laughed so hard, he slid down the wall and fell on his bottom. Tears were coming down his cheeks from his huge outburst. Arthur never laughed this hard in a long time. And it felt good. It felt so wonderful coming clean to those people. He would let the whole world know if he had to. The Brit felt like a whole different person, weight lifted off his shoulders. Things were starting to go his way. The Brit chuckled once more and looked up at the ceiling.

"Once again, you owe me, git."

Arthur Kirkland had no regrets.

**00000000 **

Miraculously avoiding traffic, Arthur made it safely to his complex. He parked in front of the building before pulling out his phone and calling Alfred.

After the first ring, someone answered.

"_Hey!_"

"Hey, you," the Brit greeted. "Can I come in now?"

"_Not yet! Sit tight. I'll meet you outside."_

Arthur grumbled. "Alfred," he whined, but the git already hung up. He sighed and put his phone away. He turned back up front strumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Blimey, I'm starving."

The shorter blond sighed once again, looking out his window, waiting for his lover to come down the stairs. After waiting nearly two minutes, he ended up making some beat on the steering wheel, then changed it up having the song _Hetler Sketler _in his head. He had his window cracked enough to hear a door slamming, and hurried footsteps. He ceased his strumming and turned to his window. The first thing the Brit saw were those converse shoes happily trotting down the steps, followed by bouncing, dark blond locks with a cow lick strain swaying side to side. Arthur grinned at how silly he looked wearing his apron that appeared rather small on him. His heart then fluttered rapidly when his lover looked up at him with a warm smile and a wave.

_Why is it you that drive me crazy, git?_

The Brit got out his car to meet his boyfriend halfway to the grassy point.

The taller man slowed his pace and grinned. "Welcome home, dude," he said. "How was the rest of your day?"

Arthur walked up to him, wrapping his arms around the American's neck, forced him down to crush lips together. He moaned softly, melting into Alfred's warmth.

_Blimey... it's been so long since I felt these lips. It still feels electrifying as before._

Alfred immediately responded to the kiss, and circled his arms around his waist. He savored the softness of the Brit's lips, tugging it gently with his teeth, and slightly brushing his tongue across it. He pulled Arthur closer as he felt him shiver against him, feeling the Brit's heart throbbing faster against his chest, and quickly slipped his wet muscle inside as soon as he saw his moment. This was heaven. Alfred was hooked on his man close to him. Pure ecstasy. It would be impossible to pry himself off the Brit.

The Brit clenched his boyfriend's shirt, wanting more. He chuckled against Alfred's mouth before rolling his hips against his partner's. The taller man flinched, breaking the kiss halfway with a gasp. Arthur smirked.

This... oh, god. Did he miss this.

The panting American looked down at him with an amused grin. "Good answer," he whispered.

Arthur grinned back, rolling his hips once more. "Feel that, love?" he breathed.

"Ah, yeah. That's for me, right?"

The naughty Englishman snorted a chuckle, trailing kisses on the American's chin down to his neck. He heard a humming noise of a car pulling up, but paid no mind to it as it passed by. He could imagine the stunned and appalled look on the driver's face, with curious children in the back asking questions the parent probably wasn't prepared to answer.

"Maybe," the Brit muffled against Alfred's neck, before taking a bite. He chuckled as he heard the taller blond wincing.

"Your food's gonna get cold. You sure?"

"There's no law here saying we shouldn't have dessert first, now is there?" the Brit teased.

Alfred slipped his hands underneath Arthur's shirt, feeling his lover shiver when his cold hands touched his warm back. "Especially having dessert _outside_, right?" he asked huskily.

The smaller blond bopped the American in the back of his head for the second time today. "You wish!" he cried before laughing when Alfred's glasses slipped off his nose when he popped him.

The American straighten his glasses. "I wish, huh?" he teased as he tackled Arthur and pinned him to the ground. He began tickling his sides. He watched the Brit laugh out, trying to fight him off, grass stains appearing on his nice work suit in the process. Alfred grinned. "Uncle?"

"Piss off!" the Brit laughed, trying his hardest to shield his ticklish body with his arms.

"Say it!" the taller man humorously demanded.

Arthur cackled, kicking his legs. "I ca...n't breath!"

"Then say it before you pass out."

The shorter blond was going to refuse again but cracked when Alfred reached over to grab his feet. "Alright! Alright! Uncle! Uncle!"

Alfred stopped and leaned in until his nose was touching Arthur's. He felt like a happy kid at a candy store. Being with Arthur like this was far better than life itself.

He was happy that he was talked into coming back...

"There," he said warmly. "That wasn't so hard now was it?"

The panting Brit didn't reply. He stared at him silently with love in his eyes. He reached out a hand, brushing the taller man's bangs gently, and watching it fall back into place. He then trailed his fingers across his face, his jawbone, brushing a thumb across his lips. This gesture felt familiar to the him. He paid no mind when the American was chuckling, wondering what the hell he was doing. Arthur smiled warmly.

_Oh, yes. I was doing this before while you were sleeping. You looked so peaceful and sweet. Look what you've did to me, git..._

"Hey, Arty?"

The Brit again made no reply until he arched his neck and captured the American's lips.

"Mm," the younger blond chuckled in between their kiss, pinning both Arthur's hands on the grass, and lacing their fingers together over their heads. He didn't think the Brit would be this bold to make out outside his apartment, especially in front of joggers, passing by folk, and the youth. He pulled away slowly, to admire his Englishman, but was pulled down again for another hard kiss. "Mh... heh, hey-mm..." _-kiss- _"Arty, w-" _-kiss- _"Mmmm... have mercy." (*)

Arthur finally pulled away to catch his breath. He smiled, looking up at him. "Was _that _an uncle?" he breathed.

"Heh, for now," the American answered before getting off the Brit and standing. He held out a hand to Arthur who happily took it. Alfred easily pulled him off the ground before embracing him. He looked down at him and smirked. "You're in a affectionate mood this evening. Something good happened while I was away?"

"You could say that," Arthur replied before giving him another peck on the lips. "I announced to everyone at work that we were dating."

The American smirked wider. "Everyone?"

"Roderich was there also. Everyone. I even told them how many times you made me come that night."

Alfred threw his head back and laughed out. "After you forbid me not to?"

"Well, some things change," Arthur said with another quick peck. "I had to be sure they know that we're an item... a hot and steamy item."

Alfred whined, scratching the back of his head. "Shit. I _knew _I shoulda cooked dinner after dessert."

The Brit chuckled. "We could always do both."

"Are you trying to make me jizz?"

"Of course. But not unless it's on or in me."

The taller man cupped the Brit's mouth shut. "Jesus, Arty!" he cried with a reddened face. "I've created a sex monster." He wasn't used to seeing this side of Arthur, not that it was a bad thing.

The cocky Brit chuckled behind Alfred's hand before taking it and pulling it away. "Sadly, I would like some food first," he said before taking the American's hand and pressing his lips on it. "Dessert will have to wait."

Alfred chuckled and reached into his pocket. "Okay, you win," he said, as he pulled out a piece of red cloth. "Now come here so I can put this blindfold on ya."

Arthur blinked. "W-wait a minute. Don't put that on me while we're going up the stairs. What if I trip and fall?"

"Don't worry," the American assured his lover. "I won't let you fall." He made the Brit turn around and blinded the objecting man with the cloth.

"Git, my apartment better not be a complete wreck," Arthur warned, arms folded.

"It's not. Have faith in me." Alfred tied the cloth in a nice knot, making sure it wasn't too tight on the smaller blond. He turned in front of Arthur, waving a hand in front of his face. "Can you see me?"

"No," the smaller man stated the obvious.

Alfred grinned and flipped the bird at him. "How many fingers am I holding-"

"Alfred, stop flipping me the fuck off and let's eat already."

The American quickly pulled his hand away. "Hey! How did you-"

"Git, food. Now."

"Jeez, man! Okay, okay."

Arthur held out his hand, waiting for his lover to take it. Instead he let out a yelp when he felt himself being lifted off the ground. "The bloody hell?"

Alfred grinned, looking down at the startled man while bridal carrying him. "I said I wasn't going to let you fall," he said. "Just hold tight."

"This is embarrassing, Alfred."

The younger man rolled his eyes, knowing Arthur couldn't see it. "Says the British man who just dry humped me not too long ago," he teased while carrying him to his apartment.

"Bastard," Arthur grumbled as he held on to Alfred tight. The Brit stayed quiet in the dark, listening to Alfred's foot steps in the grass. The ride then got a little bumpier, noticing that Alfred already began climbing the steps to the second floor of his apartment. He wondered if he was too heavy for him. Then again, if the American was able to lift himself up from a stripper pole, then carrying Arthur would be like holding a two day old kitten to Alfred.

The excited young blond made it to Arthur's door and carefully put the blind man down. "We're here!" he cried happily. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his spare key. "Don't take it off yet."

Arthur sighed impatiently. "I won't, love." While listening to his boyfriend tinkering with the lock, the Brit took in a mouth watering aroma that was invading his nostrils. He inhaled deeper, knowing he recognized that familiar smell. The second whiff immediately made his stomach grumbled. He blushed when he heard his git chuckled. He finally heard the door crack opened.

"Here," the taller blond whispered.

The Brit felt a warm hand pressed on the small of his back, making him move. The more he walked the better he could get a smell of the food. Arthur felt another hand on his shoulder, making him stop where he was.

"Stop right here." he heard the American say before the door was closed shut.

Arthur inhaled the food more, stomach rumbling once again. He grinned.

_I know that smell._

Arthur was getting excited. "Can I take it off now?"

"Hold on," Alfred replied, going over to the counter and fetching a lighter on the counter. He rushed over to the table, lighting a few candles, and making sure everything was in order. _Perfect_, he thought. He smiled and walked back over to the Brit.

"Alfred," the smaller man whined, getting restless.

"Okay," the American replied. He stood behind him and placed his hands on his lover's shoulders, squeezing them gently. "Now."

The Brit excitedly untied the blindfold. He opened his green orbs and they flashed by surprise to see his kitchen table with lit candles, filled with his favorite foods. Delicious, tender roast with potatoes and mixed vegetables, Yorkshire pudding, Cornish pasty, eccles cake, and of course topped with Arthur's favorite drink... beer.

"Oh, my," he said breathlessly, approaching the table. "This is... _quite _a surprise indeed. Ah, you remembered my favorite eccles cake."

Alfred smiled. "I remember you saying it's your one weakness," he replied. "Do you really like it?"

The Brit turned to the American, wrapping his arms around his neck once again. "Is it a retarded idea to sneak out of a boring office meeting wearing tap shoes?"(*) he joked.

The young man blinked with confusion. "Wait. Wha-"

Arthur silenced him with a deep kiss, losing his footing a bit when he stood on his toes. Thankfully his lover managed to wrap him tight to keep him from falling as he returned the kiss. Arthur pulled away and looked up at his grinning git.

"Isn't this Sunday Roast?" he asked. "It's Friday, git."

The American shrugged, lifting a brow humorously. "Does it really matter? You love roast too right?"

"Fucking straight, I do."

"Then let's fucking eat!"

The Englishman chuckled before giving his boyfriend another kiss. Arthur thought he would combust at any moment. After Alfred's return, the Brit felt something that he didn't think he had when he was with him. Arthur felt completed. Whole and anew. This what it was like to sit on top of the world, to _actually _breath. He was in love, and there was no turning back.

_Blast. Did I say dinner first? The bloody fuck was __**I **__thinking?_

It was the American's turn to pull away, grinning evilly. "Why do I get the feeling you still have 'dessert' on your mind?"

Arthur too made his own evil grin, replying, "Like you're not thinking the same thing. You're actually rubbing against my stomach."

"Well, it's that or I still have that rolling pin tucked away in this apron."

The Brit playfully nudged the taller man's side. "Dammit, stop making me choose, Jones."

"Okay, okay. Roast now. _Rump _roast later. Your stomach's been growling since you got here, man."

"Alright. Let's eat!"

The American grinned happily, looking like a little child as he pulled away from Arthur. He slipped off the apron, tossed it to the side, and walked over to the small CD player on the counter. He pressed the play button and soft piano music filled the air.

The Brit smiled softly. "It sounds lovely," he said.

The American turned to his lover and nodded. "Yiruma kicks ass," he said. "Glad you agree." He walked over to Arthur and offered a hand. "Sir."

Arthur took it and walked with him to the table. "Why thank you, sir," he said politely.

The American released his hand and pulled out his chair.

The Brit rolled his eyes and shrugged before sitting. "Whatever happened to 'not being so formal'?" he asked. "Besides, I live here."

The younger blond pushed up his chair. He placed one hand on the table and the other on the back of Arthur's seat. He waited for the older man to look up before leaning over, kissing him chastely. He pulled away with a smile.

"Some things change," he said quietly, copying Arthur's reply from earlier. "I had to be sure you know you deserve the pampering. And then some." Alfred then cupped the back of Arthur's neck with his hand and using his thumb to softly brush it in a circular motion.

The smaller blond closed his eyes and shivered as his neck leaned to the side so his lover could get better access to it.

The American happily obliged, leaning in once more, capturing Arthur's neck with his lips and teeth.

"Nh, damn you and your hot mum," the Brit joked breathlessly.

Alfred pulled away, seeing a little mark he left on Arthur before kissing it. "Better dig in before I decide to take you here," he whispered.

"No fair. I can't take on both you _and _my Eccles cake."

Another joke. Arthur was on a roll today.

Alfred snickered before kissing Arthur's temple and pulling away. "Eat up, smart ass," he teased as he walked to his chair.

The Brit grinned and watched the American be seated before grabbing his fork and attacked his roast on the plate.

**00000000**

As the Brit had expected, dinner was phenomenal. Each dish was perfect, and Arthur enjoyed each and every bite. Both blonds were full as ticks, but of course, a case of beer wasn't going to slow them down. They weren't far along gone just yet, but they were hammered enough to tell each other crappy jokes, play footsie underneath the table, and toss half eaten eccles cakes at each other. Neither was sure who started the semi-food fight, but neither cared. The war soon continued with the taller blond chasing the smaller one down the hallway to the bedroom. Arthur tripped and fell to the floor which made a loud thud, loud enough for his downstairs neighbors to hear. The Brit's chaser tripped on the Brit's black sock covered feet and fell right on top of him with a second thud. The air was knocked out of the shorter blond from that blow, but he continued to laugh with the larger man. Calling it a truce, both went for each other's hot mouths, not caring whose tongue should be in whose mouth or calling the shots. They were hot and horny, full and wanted to fuck. Both men's groins were tingling... but not just from being in the mood.

"Fuck," the Brit grunted in Alfred's mouth before pulling away. "Let me take a whizz."

"Okay," the American murmured before pulling away and stood. He helped Arthur up.

While the Brit was being helped off the floor, he didn't notice the evil grin on his lover's face. Before he knew it, he was pushed roughly, stumbling backwards, with the bed breaking his fall. He bounced along with the mattress, baffled on what happened. He sat up and watched his tall and tipsy blond turning away with a snicker.

"Dibs!" the American shouted with his annoying laugh. He ran out the bedroom and into the bathroom, shutting the door.

"H-hey!" the Brit cried. "You sneaky bastard."

"Love you!" Alfred's voice muffled behind the door, followed by loud liquid sounds pouring in water.

Arthur frowned and sat up from the bed. He then blushed and smiled softly.

"I love you too," he whispered so the younger blond couldn't hear. He hopped off the bed and paced in his room to wait for his turn. "Hurry up, wanker," he called from across the room.

"Almost done, pumpkin," the American replied with a chuckle.

The Brit grunted and turned back to his bed. He saw one of Alfred's luggage there. Feeling naughty, he decided to rummage through it and find something to humiliate the American and get his pay back. He plopped on his bed and quietly began unzipping the bag all the way. Arthur kept looking across the hallway to see if the coase was clear. He carefully opened the flap and dug through Alfred's things, but he didn't get too far when he came across something that was so astounding to Arthur, he though he felt a tear run down his face.

"Monty..." he began, but was too overwhelm to say it out loud.

"Huh?" Alfred cried. The flushing of the toilet was heard.

The Brit turned to the door, pulling out the item, which appeared to be a DVD box set.

"You love Flying Circus?" he finally asked.

"Psh, duh. Who doesn't?"

Arthur turned back to the luggage pulling out another box set. "Do you have the _whole _set?"

"Yeah, but I only brought my top favorite ones." The American replied, washing his hands. "I thought we could watch them later."

"But I thought you were into that... that Japanese cartoon and 80's cartoons... and porn."

The American laughed out, but the Brit continued looking through the bag. He then pulled out a DVD that was still in the wrapper.

"The Holy Grail," he murmured.

"That one was fucking hard to find," Alfred said, finally coming out the bathroom, but without wearing his shirt. He walked over to the bed and sat next to the jaw dropping Brit going over his collections. He grinned, placing a hand on Arthur's thigh, brushing it warmly, and placing a kiss on his shoulder before resting his chin on it.

"The 'Spanish Inquisition' skit, 'Spam,' 'Reenactment of Pearl Harbor', 'Ministry of Silly Walks,' the 'World's Funniest Joke,'" Arthur was reading out loud in the back of the DVD case. "These are my favorites. This show was genius."

"I don't care what anyone says," the taller blond said with a grin. "I'd bang John Cleese."

"I fucking would _too_!" the Brit agreed, his voice shrieked slightly. "He's god!"

Before Arthur realized it... he was falling in love with Alfred even more.

_I guess we have a lot more in common than I thought._

He then pulled out another DVD.

"'Where the Wild Things Are.'"

Alfred chuckled wrapping his arms around the Brit's waist. "It's actually my second copy," he said. "The first one was scratched like hell because I played it so many times."

Arthur smiled looking down at the cover. "This was one of my favorite stories mum read to me when I was a child," he murmured.

Alfred pulled the Brit closer to him. "Mine too," he said, with a soft chuckle. "Mom would always let me say the last part."

The Brit lowered the DVD, looking up at the ceiling, reminiscing.

"'And it was still hot,'" both blonds murmured in unison.

The Brit smiled, placing a hand on Alfred's, feeling him embracing him much closer. It was funny how their moment went from sexual mood to childhood memories and bonding. Arthur didn't mind. He would let no one catch him get emotional but Alfred and Alfred only. This was a sacred bond between them he was willing to share and more to come.

The American placed his cheek against Arthur's back, staring off in thought. "I still have the book," the American said.

"Yes, so do I," the Brit said, nodding.

"I dropped a piece of chicken on one of the pages and the grease bleed through other pages."

"Mine is so old, both the front and back covers are missing."

"Heh, yeah..."

Arthur sighed and placed the DVDs back where he found them. "We can watch them later tonight or early in the morning with breakfast," he requested. "My treat."

The American sighed also before kissing the shorter blond's shoulder again.

Arthur winced and squirmed slightly, feeling his tingly sensation in his groin again. He tried pulling away from Alfred's hold. "Alfred. I have to use the lavatory."

Alfred was silent, holding the Brit for dear life.

Arthur, concerned, turned to his shoulder, squeezing the American's arms gently.

"Love... I'm just going to the bathroom. Are you alright?"

The taller blond loosen his grip on his boyfriend. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'm cool."

The Brit just sat quietly with his lover's arms still wrapped loosely around him. He had to pee badly, but he wanted to see if the young blond would make some kind of reaction. It felt to Arthur that the young man wanted to say something, but it also felt hesitant.

This strange tension. Alfred suddenly going all quiet. This happened before.

_Was it something I said?_

"Git?" the Brit whispered, squeezing the younger man's arms tighter.

Alfred then chuckled, nudging Arthur.

"Hey, don't piss on me. I have strange fetishes, but that's not one of them."(*)

The Brit stared at him, worriedly. He then played it off by huffing before standing. "Wanker," he muttered.

Alfred smiled, taking Arthur's hand and kissed it. "Hurry back."

The Brit turned back to him, placing a soft kiss on his temple. "I will," he whispered before releasing his lover and rushed to the bathroom. He barely made it.

Alfred grinned, hearing the Brit muffled behind the door a long sigh of relief followed by a whiney, "Oh, blimey! I need to get toilet paper. What if I have to make a boom-boom later?"(*)

The taller blond turned back to his luggage, looking down at the 'Where the Wild Things Are' DVD. He turned away, staring blankly at the floor. "I still can't believe I came back here," he murmured to himself. "Guess I have you to thank, huh..."

* * *

_-"You should watch it with your friend sometime. I'm sure he'll love it."-_

_-"...I thought we already discussed this."-_

_-"What? The story is made for children of __**all **__ages. Young and old. There's nothing to be embarrassed ab-"-_

_-"Don't act clueless. You __**know **__what I'm talking about..."-_

_-"Hm... let me see... what __**were**__ we discussing abo-Ah, yes! That. Well, dear, there really wasn't much talking, now was there? The only thing that left your lips were, 'I'm staying.' You never particularly said how long."-_

_-"Jen, I'm not going b-"-_

_-"__**Yes**__... you are. I already have your things packed."-_

_-"No, I'm not. I'm staying... as in __**forever**__."-_

_-"Ah, so he __**finally **__knows this now? Now, he doesn't have to get his hopes up, waiting for you to walk through his door with open arms. Splendid!"-_

_-"...I-I was gonna call him this week."-_

_-"Just like you said the week before... and the week before that. And before that! Don't give me that poppycock, Alfred. I've seen how you stare out blankly with hearts in your eyes. It's been four months, and you can't tell me that there hasn't been a single day you haven't been thinking about this Arthur person!"-_

_-"I don't want to talk abou-" _

_-"Because I know you miss him. ...well, do you?"-_

_-"...I do."-_

_-"Then why don't you go see him?"-_

_-"Jen... what if..."_

_-"Come back in a few days. A week. Hell, a mon-."-_

_-"Three days."-_

_-"Four. And that's my final offer, Mr. Jones."-_

_-"...okay. Four days."-_

_-"Great! Now hand me my laptop so I can order the flight tickets."-_

_

* * *

_

Alfred sighed and took the flap, closing the luggage, and zipping it shut. He placed a hand on top of the closed bag.

_Hang on just a little longer._

The American turned to the hallway after hearing the toilet flushing faintly behind the bathroom door. He stood from the bed and took off his glasses, placed them on Arthur's night stand, and quietly walked out the bedroom.

Arthur twist on the hot knob of the faucet before reaching for the antibacterial hand soap. With two pumps he began lathering his hands. The whole time in the bathroom, the short man kept playing back in his head on when Alfred's mood suddenly changed. He stared at himself in the mirror while scrubbing his knuckles.

_He got quiet after we talked about that book. That's got to be it. But why? Come to think of it, he doesn't talk about his family that much, other than his brother Matt. I wonder if he had a rough childhood. I fear if I ask him, he'll get upset. I suppose I can talk to him about it when he's in a better mood._

_-click-_

The Brit jumped slightly, hearing the door crack opened. His heart fluttered, but he relaxed, seeing it was only Alfred stepping inside. He watched the taller blond looking down at the floor, and quietly closing the door behind him. The Brit grew nervous again from the awkward silence.

"Um," Arthur stammered, carefully placing his foamy hands in the hot, running water. "I'm almost finished, love. Do you... have to go again?"

The taller blond spoke not a word, as he walked over to the Brit. He wrapped his arms around his waist from the side and kissed him roughly before Arthur had a chance to ask what was wrong.

The Brit didn't argue and roughly kissed back, placing his wet hands on Alfred's bare shoulders. With the water still running full blast, hot steam formed, fogging the mirror as their make out session. Tongues brushed against each other, teeth clashing, saliva running down one's chin. One's hardness pressed against the other. Arthur forgot what he was thinking about moments ago. His bloodstream went from his head to his crotch.

"_Sexing time, Arthur,"_ the Englishman's crotch might would have said. _"Off with the pants."_

The Brit's damp hands automatically went for the American's belt buckle, unfastening them in a swift move. He twisted and tugged on Alfred's pants button until the button finally gave out and popped loose. It was heard hitting the floor, and rolling across the room until it bumped against the tub. The zipper was the next to go, and Arthur in mid-kiss shivered with excitement, knowing what was to come next. His curious and naughty wet hand tugged out his lover's briefs while the other hand invited himself inside until he came across a warm and throbbing friend. He gently grasped it and made it come out in the cool air. Alfred moaned in his mouth as his length pulsed in Arthur's hand.

The eager Englishman broke the kiss halfway. "You alright?" he breathed, slowly moving his arm.

Alfred panted looking down his lover with half closed eyes. He took a hold of the Brit's button down shirt.

The Brit blinked. "N-not again," he panted. "Alfred, I just bought-"

But it was too late. Like a wild bear, the taller blond ripped opened his shirt, and buttons flew. The shorter blond hissed as one of the buttons struck his face. His frowning face later turned alarmed as he was forced to face the half fogged mirror. He still managed to hold on to his lover's stiffness and continued to caress it.

Alfred pressed himself on the Brit from behind, reaching around to unfasten his remaining grass stained slacks. The shorter blond took his free hand and helped his partner slip both pants and underwear pass his hips, landing over his ankles. The taller blond reached over and turned the cold water knob slightly before he damped his hand. Bringing it back behind Arthur he grabbed one of the Brit's cheeks and spread it. He took his wet finger, and without warning, inserted it inside. He felt the small man stiffen and grunt from the process.

"Blimey," the Brit hissed, feeling weak to his knees by just that one finger in him.

Alfred began moving the finger and tried distracting the Brit, by soothing him with butterfly kisses from his exposed shoulder up to his neck. He then nuzzled his neck while looking up at his lover's reflection in the mirror. Arthur's expression was relaxed, filled with pleasure, and concentration, and his panting increased. The American also noticed both his arms were moving: one for Alfred's length, and the other for his own. He slowly inserted a second finger, wanting to see how the Brit would react.

The shorter blond's back arched, letting out a loud moan. He was going to blow at any second if this git didn't stop teasing him. It had been so damn long for Arthur. Spending lonely nights jerking off in the sheets while listening to Alfred whisper dirty things over the phone wasn't enough. He didn't care if it was going to hurt like hell. He wanted to feel Alfred in him again. The Brit opened his eyes, seeing Alfred staring dead at him in the mirror with love, lust, passion, and hunger in his eyes. And it pissed the Englishman off because the git wasn't doing anything about it.

"Alfred," he whimpered, "what the fuck are you waiting for?"

The taller blond pressed his lips on the impatient man's neck before pulling out his fingers. He reached over to wet his hand in the running water once more. He made the Brit move his hand away from his length and took over, lubricating himself. He turned back to their reflection before gently nibbling his lover's ear.

"I'm waiting for you, Arty," the American breathed. "Just say it, and you can have me."

The Brit grunted angrily, pushing his bare ass back against Alfred. "I already have you, wanker. All you bloody gotta do is put it in. Bloody pound me! Make it hurt! Fucking _rape _me for fuck's sake!"

Arthur's mother would always say to him: "Be careful what you wish for" or "Look before you leap" ...or _mostly _"Don't shave those, sweetie. They'll only grow back thicker!" Those were three lessons Arthur _still _neglected to learn to this day.

After hearing those commands, Alfred's body was in control. His blood boiled hotter than lava. It was moments away from erupting, and he _knew _the exact place where to put it. The younger blond grabbed Arthur's hips and took aim.

"I suggest you hold tight then... and pray you survive this," he murmured.

Maybe this would be the day the Brit would learn one of those lessons...

Ignoring his surroundings, and not giving his partner time to prepare himself, Alfred, in every fiber of his being inserted himself in Arthur hard, sharply, and abruptly. He was too out of it to hear the surprised cry of his lover as he paused to savor his first thrust in four months. The young "pitcher" sucked in his breath and closed his eyes. He remembered his lover's tightness, the welcoming warmth. He remembered the odd wall that would occasionally stop him halfway, and he had to angle himself just right until Arthur fully engulfed him, completely until his two oval glands brushed against the Brit's cheeks. He missed this. Longed for it. It was like he achieved his first victory. Like taking in the first day of Spring air and sun, and the sweet smell of honeysuckles that grew all across the fence. This _had _to be what heaven felt like.

"...fuck."

Paradise. Sweet paradise.

Arthur let out his first heart wrenching cry in four months, knocking his cologne, electric razor, deodorant, and other items off the counter and onto the floor as he was violently forced toward the mirror. He managed to plant his hands on the wall before his forehead could collide against his alternate imaged self and kept from getting blood lost and stitches. He was automatically remembering his lover's amazing length, the familiar burning, and the sharp pressure that made his eyes roll in the back of his head, filled with a bright light of pain and pleasure all bind into one, and he confusingly loved it so much he was desperate for more. The Brit placed his cheek against the damp mirror, panting hard. It felt like they just finished, but it was far from over. He waited desperately for the next thrust.

"Move, Alfred," he whimpered.

The younger blond thought he would release if he even pulled out just an inch. Waiting a few seconds and hearing his partner moan impatiently, he slowly pulled out halfway and pushed in again harder. He looked up at the Brit when he heard him let out another surprised cry.

"C... come on," the shorter blond begged hoarsely. "Is that the best you've got?"

Alfred silenced him with another hard thrust and repeated again, and again. Soon, the younger blond was giving his partner who was trying to keep up harsh thrust. Seeing Arthur drenched in sweat, crying from the top of his lungs, mouth agape in pleasure, and either begging for more or begging for _no _more drove Alfred over the edge. He kept going, wanting to see more, wanting to see how Arthur would respond next.

Arthur was on fire, ass and all. He could stand how the thrusting was making his crotch brush uncomfortably against the edge of the counter, but the git's fast pounding was making his stomach turn. He had too much eccles cake.

"W-wait, stop..." the Brit begged feeling, queasy, "t-too fast... I'll..."

Then the bright light of pain and pleasure emerged.

"I'll... fucking wring your blooming neck if you stop, git..."

Alfred's mom once told him: "There's always light at the end of the tunnel."

The American was minutes away from climaxing. He circled his arms around the Brit and took a hold of him, making sure he wouldn't go out alone.

A whine escaped Arthur's lips and he grabbed his boyfriend's fast pace hand. "H-hold on," he pleaded.

Alfred smiled, kissing the back of the Brit's damp hair. "Sorry," he whispered. "I'm gonna blow..."

"B-but I'm still... nh! Not yet... god... please, Alfred!"

Alfred turned to the mirror and reached out, wiping away the fog to see his lover's face. He whispered soothing words in his ear as he increased his speed both inside Arthur and his fist.

"Come on," the American panted. "Let me see."

Arthur squirmed, jolted, feeling the sensation rushed from his stomach to his groin. It was too soon, but he couldn't hold it any longer. He was going to explode. Feeling Alfred brushing himself against his spot one more time and feeling that familiar hot liquid in him did the damage as he fell back on the taller blond, ached his pelvis as far as he could, shouted a cuss word, and released hard on the running faucet.

The dominating man paused long enough to see the Englishman's climaxed face in the mirror before he grunted and came once more. The two males were quiet except for their panting along with the running water. Alfred tiredly leaned on the trembling Brit, letting out a satisfied chuckle.

"Worth the wait," he breathed.

Arthur's hands slid off the wall, landing on the wet counter. He didn't care if the wetness was from him or the water. He was too spent and relieved to care right now. He missed feeling like this. Having sex after a long day was the Brit's new calling and a good stress reliever. He didn't know how he was going to survive when the git flight leaves in a few days.

"Mh," the Brit finally answered. "I guess this is why dessert comes last." Arthur trembled some more, feeling his legs giving out on him as he shifted, and having the heavy man on top of him wasn't helping any.

The taller blond felt the Englishman slipping and he held him up. The Brit turned his body around to circle his arms around the git's shoulders and rest his head on his chest. Alfred smiled warmly before kissing the top of his head.

"Hey, you hungry?" he asked.

The Brit opened one eye and lifted a bushy brow. "You've got to be kidding me," he murmured.

Alfred grinned. "Nope. I actually bought some 'Sock it to me' cake at the store, and I'm _dying _to tear into it."

Arthur looked up at his now starved boyfriend. "You've already _tore_ into me, and now you want more food?"

"Yep!"

The Brit pressed his forehead into Alfred's chest, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're unbelievable, wanker."

"I know, I know! I'm awesome! Wouldn't you believe I got the last one? I'm a _true _hero!"(*)

Arthur looked back up at him. He plucked him directly in the forehead. "You're a _true_ nitwit is what you are," he teased. "But I love you just the same."

Alfred smiled as he leaned forward. "And I love cake," he teased back before giving his frowning Brit a deep kiss. He pulled away and laughed out, feeling Arthur pinching his ass hard. "Ah! Okay! I love you too! I love you too!"

"That's what I _thought _you bloody said."

* * *

**I was feeling a little nervous about posting this chapter. Why? I dunno. I'm not really sure how strict these fanfic guys are about the M ratings of sex content, but it's not like me and other writers haven't posted them before. I'm sure there are fics out there that are WAY more graphic than mine. Guess we'll find out in the later reviews and "death threats"... I might post the future super juicy-ness in My Journal account thing just in case. Though I need to remember my password. Haha!**

**My beta gurl Sarah pointed out about the ****argument between Alfred and the mysterious caller ****being out of the blue and, well, a tad bit confusing. She suggested that I should let the audience know a little more about the relationship between the two. Well... the thing is, I didn't wanna get too far into detail on who this person is yet and why Alfred seem to can't stand them. I tried adding a little more stuff to it, but it's probably still making ya'll go WTFITS.**

_~*sings* Star struck~_

**1. **_"Mh... heh, hey-mm..." -kiss- "Arty, w-" -kiss- "Mmmm... have mercy." (*) _**(okay, if I'm like the only person who's familiar with the show **_**Full House**_**, then I must be ****really**** old. "Have mercy" was actually a catchphrase from one of the main protagonist named Jessie in the show, a handsome biker boy, a lead guitarist and lead singer of a rock band, and who was also obsessed with his hair lol. Whenever he kisses his girlfriend Rebecca, he would always blurt out "have mercy." xD**

**2. **_The Brit turned to the American, wrapping his arms around his neck once again. "Is it a retarded idea to sneak out of a boring office meeting wearing tap shoes?"(*) he joked. _**(This was actually a question asked by that GEICO announcer(but he said "bad idea" ****not**** "retarded" cuz only Arthur would say that lol), but I think it's only played on the radio. I've never seen it aired on tv. Funny ass commercial though.) **

**3. **_"Hey, don't piss on me. I have strange fetishes, but that's not one of them."(*) _**(come on... this gotta sound familiar to you all. **_**'Piss on me'**_**? Duh, winning!)**

**4. **_"Oh, blimey! I need to get toilet paper. What if I have to make a boom-boom later?"(*) _**(I'll give a shout out to the lucky person in the next chapter if they can guess where I got the term "BOOM-BOOM")**

**...damn these are a lot of stars... okay, I think this is the last one:**

**5. **_I know, I know! I'm awesome! Wouldn't you believe I got the last one? I'm a true __**hero**__!"(*) _**(lol hey! He was bound to say it sooner or later. He ****is**** America after all!)**

**P.S. sorry it too so long to post this. I kept getting that "Type 2 Fanfic Error" thing on my dad's computer. But later today, I found out _ALL_ the fanfic authors were having the same 'Type 2' problem. So if you guys ever get to read this chapter and message then that means the problem is "fixed". For the other authors who are a little stumped on how to upload/edit your stories because of that stupid 'Type 2 Error', hit me up and I'll tell you a secret, ONLY if you promise to spread the word to the others! ;p**

**(Thanks, Cherie)**

**Stay tuned and be safe!**

**-Hoggy**


	3. Red and Blue

**The author is truly... TRULY SORRY:** I was not expecting to update this late. Like what... a year now? Damn. For those of you who were still waiting like crazed Homestuck fans, I love you, so much!

A bit of a warning, this is not proofread by a volunteered beta reader yet. I was going to ask Youtube's Parle member **June**if she still wanted to double check it for me. Once she does I will update the corrections.

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**_**(What? You don't like turkey burgers, Tetsuya? Hm... I guess we can still make this work! :/)**

* * *

**BFFF: Love Will Make it Certain**

**-03-**

**00000000**

The sun sank into the earth's sky once more, like it did so many times. It was the crickets cue to chirp in harmony competing with the loud toads from afar. The air was still muggy and harsh, but the stars from above were beautiful and breathtaking enough to make one forget the suffocating air (as long of course you had a cold bottle water at hand). The neighborhood was all quiet, while a few citizens were out jogging while having their dogs on a leash, or some tired workers coming in from a late shift. The evening was still young for the two blond couples Alfred and Arthur however.

"Oh? What's this now?"

"Heh... oh, nothing, love. Stand still so I can wash your back."

After their intimate time in the bathroom, the men took a quick shower while necking and fondling each other in mid-wash. The intrigued British man was the first to start the little encounter.

"Well, that's definitely not a bar of soap on my ass right now," the younger male said with a grin underneath the hard water pressure of the shower head. He liked it that way because it felt good on his sore muscles. Arthur called it a shower head from hell. When he first used it, he thought he was being stabbed to death by a thousand needles. He wondered if every person's shower head was like this in the entire complex. Now, whenever they showered together the Brit would make his love stand in front of it like his shield.

Arthur grinned while gently lathering the youth's long back and slowly pressing himself closer to his amazing butt. "Quiet or I'll wash that dirty mouth of yours next," he ordered teasingly. He admired the taller man's strong back, his fine sculpture, and the old scratch marks he left on him, that were hardly there now. Even from behind, Alfred was a work of art.

The younger man meanwhile reached out behind, placing a damp hand on the older one's butt cheek with a soft squeeze and bringing him _much _closer. "Well, if you do can we use _that_ bar of soap that's placed between my ass cheeks instead?" Alfred joked, turning to his shoulder and using his other hand to point downward below the Brit's waist.

"Sorry, but _this_ bar is for the ones who behaved well. You, love, have been quite naughty tonight." The evil Brit took the fresh ivory soap, bringing it around the American's front, brushing it past his nipple down to his waist, and finally...

A satisfied moan escaped the taller man's throat, bouncing through the bathroom walls. The Brit could feel his arousing growl vibrating from his lathered back.

Arthur made a disapproving tsk noise. "You're enjoying this rather too much," he breathlessly said, sliding the bar across Alfred's awakened friend back and forth. "We can't have that, now can we?"

The American's hand spread the Brit's cheek and began, bringing his hand as far back as he could, to brush his middle finger across his open. Alfred smirked, hearing a gasp behind him followed by a shiver. "What ya think we should do then?" he murmured.

The hot steam from the shower, the Brit's body heat, as well as the American pressed against him was enough to make poor Arthur feel faint. He let out another gasp feeling the finger entering him. The soap slipped from his hand, hitting the tub with a hard clunk. It barely missed one of the blond's feet. The Brit's heart fluttered rapidly, bringing himself closer to his love's body. He inhaled the familiar scent of soap on Alfred's skin, remembering how it would bring him to his knees every time he smelled it on him. The same scent the young blond left behind in Arthur's bed sheets. Oh, how it would sooth Arthur and make him fall into a deep slumber at night. The intoxicated Brit made a deep purr in the back of his throat and took his lathered hand, continuing to gently scrub between the American's legs. "Are you bloody serious?" the Brit panted on Alfred's shoulder. "Again?"

"What?" The taller man grinned, pushing the finger in more. "Not like we haven't done it nonstop before. Besides, you started it, dude. We better finish it."

Before the older man could say anything, the American turned facing him and sent the smaller blond to other side of the tub. Arthur's back was pressed against the cold, sand textured tile wall. He hissed from the chill hitting his skin before opening one eye, having to see a lustful Alfred facing him. The taller man had both hands planted on the wall, on either side of the Brit's head. Arthur watched the water run down his face and body while most remained on his skin. It reminded the Englishman the git's sweat when he was in bed on top of him. The Brit blushed opening and closing his mouth a few times. "You're not fond of having a hard tonker are you?" he asked shyly before reaching down grasping him again.

The American shook his head.

"Guess we better get to work, huh?"

The American nodded his head.

"Oh, you're such a spoiled twat." The Brit smirked, reaching out and cupping the back of the grinning git's head. He slowly pulled him down and their lips touched. Alfred obliged right away, taking the shorter man's mouth hungrily, cupping his face needily. Their mouths still had a faint smell and taste of cheap beer. The American brushed his tongue against the Brit's wanting to taste more of him. Nearly losing control, Alfred hooked his arms underneath the shorter blond's legs, pinning him to the wall further. Arthur, fearing he would fall, quickly wrapped his arms around the strong man's shoulders. The tall blond broke the kiss halfway, smiled, and brushed his nose against his.

"You scared of heights or something?" Alfred cooed.

The Brit responded to the cute Eskimo kiss, gripping his lover's shoulders more. "The only thing that scares me is having a head concussion butt naked," he answered.

"I told ya I won't let ya fall. You should always trust your boyfriend."

The Brit had let out a amused snort followed by a soft blush. "Trust you, now?"

"That's right!" Alfred arched his knees slightly, reaching out underneath them until he got what he was looking for. He moved forward slowly before he heard his older lover let out a soft cry and holding him tighter. The American shivered while leaning in resting his lips between Arthur's neck. He planted a kiss there before murmuring, "I'll never hurt you in any way, Arty."

Arthur groaned, length throbbing, toes curling. He almost forgot that the dominating man was talking to him. "Let's hope so," he finally panted a reply against Alfred's ear. "Otherwise, I may have to track you down and punch you square in the face."

The taller man chuckled at that before making short and sharp moves. The Brit shivered looking up at the steamy ceiling, taking in on having his lover inside him once more. How could something like this make him full and whole? He enjoyed the ridiculously fast pace, heart stopping, seizure feeling sex they would do every now and then. And the slow pace was just as enjoyable, maybe even more enjoyable. The Brit was weak, powerless each time they were like this. He was sure if Alfred asked him to do something crazy like announce to everyone from the top of his lungs what was being done to his ass he probably would do it.

The moaning Englishman knew they were in the shower far too long now, but he'd be damned if they stop there. "Let's make it a quicky, love," he moaned. "I wish not to come out looking like a prune."

The American held the Brit closer and increased his pace. "Don't worry," he said. "I love your wrinkles."

Arthur frowned and glared daggers at the side of the taller man's head. "Maybe I should punch you now."

Alfred grinned. "What? What I say?"

**00000000**

After their moment in the shower _yet_ again and another quick bath, the blonds dressed in their night clothes, went straight to the kitchen for some cake the git kept going on about. Alfred happily cut a small piece for the Brit and a massive chunk from himself. Scarfing down three hundred calories of sugary goodness in the bedroom, the younger blond was in the mood for playing his first person shooter video games. Alfred begged, plead, even threaten the British man by singing to him if he didn't play with him.

The persistent man had Arthur on the singing.

After an hour of head shots, over kills, and even suicides (Arthur's), the taller blond was constantly wiping the floor with his poor boyfriend. "This is retarded," the Brit murmured on his bed, sitting in between Alfred's legs while the taller man had his back rest on the pillow by the head board. "How can anyone possibly enjoy playing this? There's too many buttons to press for one thing! And you bloody can't see where the hell you'r-"

_-Bang-_

"_KILLING SPREE!" _exclaimed the announcer in the game.

"Fuck!" the Brit cried. The taller man behind him was laughing hysterically, his chest jumping while doing so. The Englishman resting on his chest was actually moving as well from his hard laughs. "It isn't funny, git."

The American's laugh faded, wiping a tear. "Okay, okay," he snickered. "I'm sorry." He didn't mean to laugh. He found it amusing and cute watching his lover on the bottom from the split screen of the game shooting up at the sky, falling off cliffs, blowing himself up, and ended up getting head butted by Alfred's guns. It was nice playing with other challenging users online, but something about playing against beginners like Arthur was more enjoyable. The bifocal man looked down, hearing the Brit heave a frustrating sigh. He smiled softly. "Wanna play something else?"

"No," the Brit grumbled. "I'm going to get one kill from you if it's the last thing I do."

Alfred grinned before he stretched his arms, one of them holding his joy stick before letting out a huge yawn.

Arthur snorted and looked over his shoulder at him. "Your sleepiness isn't going to win you out of this one, wanker."

The git hummed, wrapping his arms around his lover's waist and kissed his temple. "I'm not sleepy. Just a little tired. C'mon! See if you can get me. I'll go easy on you."

The older blond crossed his ankles while getting more comfortable on the younger one's chest. "I don't want you going easy on me," he pouted.

"Say what?"

The Brit looked over his shoulder to stare at his lover again. "Don't bloody go easy on me," he repeated a little more forcefully.

The American grinned. "Say that one more time."

The Brit turned half his body around to get a good look at the cheesing git. "_Are _you deaf or what?" he asked, bushy eyebrow lifted.

"I heard ya, dude." Alfred smirked, placing a free hand on the Brit's boxer covered bum. "Just say it again... more seductively." Feeling it coming, Alfred laughed and held up his arms in defense before his boyfriend grabbed a nearby pillow, clobbering him with it a few times. A reddened face Arthur from both embarrassment and exhaustion from whacking the burger eating freak with his pillow so hard pouted again.

"If you ever so dare try fucking my bum while we're playing this cataclysm nonsense you call game, you're sleeping on the couch tonight," the Brit warned.

"Hey," the American objected. "Don't talk shit about Halo."

"'Don't talk shit about Halo'?" the Brit mocked with a smirk. "Did I pinch a nerve there, Jones? Hate it when someone talks badly about your whore game."

"Oh-ho!" Alfred cried humourously, sitting up from the bed. He reaches over, picking up the Brit's joy stick and placed it in his hands. "That's it. You're going down, Kirkland."

"Fine," the shorter blond replied turning back to the screen. Deciding not to snuggle against Alfred's warmth, he crawled close to the edge of the bed and lied flat on his stomach. Determination appeared on his face as he brushed his thumbs across the buttons of the controller. With a smirk, he added., "Let's have the crybaby take his frustration out so he'll feel proud of accomplishing absolutely nothing."

The American made a noise from what the Englishman said. "Smart ass," he murmured with a grin.

Arthur stayed silent grinning hard, and knowing the American couldn't see him.

"I'll give you three tries. All ya gotta do is shoot me down once. But if you lose, you're cooking me burgers and fries tomorrow!"

The Brit turned to him asking, "What do get if I win?"

The younger man tilted his head to the side, looking up, pondering. Then his face lit up with a warm grin. _Why not?, _he thought to himself."How 'bout... you topping me tonight?" the younger man asked.

The Brit's eyes widen by surprised. "Bull shit," he spat with a chuckle.

"I'm being serious actually."

Arthur chuckled again, dumbfounded. "You'd let _me_... bonk you tonight?"

"Yep!"

"My dick in _your _arse?"

"You'd be in control."

"I'd have you squealing out like a five year-old getting an Nintendo 64 for Christmas?"(*)

"I was thinking more of the lines of bawling out like a father with a drinking problem after being told by his son that he still loves him at an intervention, but... whatever rocks your balls," the American replied with a small shrug.(*)

The Brit only laughed, still not believing this offer. The only time he actually topped Alfred was once. And it was that time when he was dead drunk. Arthur tried everything in his power to remember all the details that went on that night, from start to finish. Sadly the only thing he could remember was their first kiss.

The American however definitely remembered that first night. If the Brit could get one kill, this would be Arthur's first time while sober. That weird night when they were together the American asked the drunk which way they should go about doing it.

_-"Fuckin' dif' does it make? We' boff gonna bl'dy come, arn't we?" _went the reply from the wasted Brit that night. So the younger blond made Arthur run the show whilst he just went with the flow. It was a bit sloppy and awkward from the beginning. In fact, it was like getting fucked by a sloth with A.D.D. The American wondered if this was the Englishman's first time _ever_ sleeping with a man. Or _anyone _for that matter.

_-"Arthur... come __**on**__, man," _the impatient youth on his stomach said with a frustrating sigh.

Later in the end, Alfred made the drunk lie on his back and helped him get a nice rhythm for him. Arthur got the hang of it and was back in control.

The more the Brit thought about this challenge, the more he got intrigued. If he could get at least one simple kill, he would be in control for tonight. Do whatever he wanted with this man's scrumptious body. And of course... be the _man_ for once and not the female.

"Alright," the Brit finally agreed. Arthur then sat up more and held out his fist before holding out a finger in mid-count of his requests. "Only on one condition: no rocket launchers, no snipers, no whacking each other with our weapons, and for blimey's sake no 'tea bagging' me after you shot me down." (*)

The younger man nodded with a snicker. "Okay," he said. "We'll just use handguns. How's that?"

"Alright."

The taller blond took his joy stick and brought the game back to the starting menu. The Brit could tell he played this too many times by the way his thumbs were going through the buttons. With what seems like one hundred clicking noises per second, and not being able to enjoy the soothing score music in the background, Alfred brought them to a new game.

"Okay," the tall blond said happily. "Handguns only, no other weapons, no vehicles and aircrafts, no shields, unlimited bullets, stage: the easiest and most boring level with less cliffs but more open areas, three strikes minus your one try. Sounds good?"

The git said it so fast, the Brit wasn't sure if he caught any of that. "Um... sure," he said doubtfully.

Alfred nodded and pressed one more button on the controller. With that, the familiar countdown beeping noises were heard from the television. Arthur braced himself and quickly turned to the screen.

"_Slayer..."_ the announcer's deep epic voice went.

The Brit swallowed hard.

_I'm dead..._

The Brit hesitantly moved his sprite, trying to get used to the controllers still. Arthur realized the stage Alfred picked really didn't have many places to hide. Meaning he had to act quickly before-

_-Bang-Bang-Bang-_

"Fucking all!"

Arthur watched his player hit the ground as Alfred's player walked passed him from a bird's eye view. Tiny words on the screen announced that "BastardTeaParty" was killed by "AFJHero50."

"I still hate that stupid name," the older blond muttered.

"Strike one," the American grinned, tapping his annoyed lover's shoulder with his foot. "Better get into the game, Arty. They could re-spawn you anywhere."

"I know, you twit!" the Brit grumbled waiting for his fallen Spartan to come back to life. With four beeps being heard, Arthur was back in the game. He was brought in a different area. He nearly gasped out when he saw a flash of blue up ahead. His opponent just turned a corner. With no hesitation, the Brit went after him. He frowned, narrowing his eyes.

_Does he know where I am? Is he waiting for me to turn the corner? The wanker has so many strategies it's hard to tell what he's going to do next!_

"You better not be looking at my screen, git."

Alfred spoke not a word, but was fully focused on the game. The Brit knew this was one of the moments the git would hardly open his big mouth. He was like this with most games Arthur would watch him and Kiku play. The big gamer buddies were both like mindless freaks glued to the screen for hours, lost to the real world. Arthur could probably stand in front of them naked and they wouldn't notice.

Arthur kept going hearing his Spartan's feet stomping on the grass loudly. Sounds of birds chirping and the soft wind were also heard in the background of the game.

Alfred meanwhile began moving his player further into the grassy point. He knew his partner was oblivious to his sneaky plans. He would always change his moves which was mainly why he was a master at this game. Other gamers online would beg to have Alfred join their team or add them as a friend. The American had so many requests his box was already full.

The Brit's palms were sweaty, nervous from the silence and suspense. It was going to drive him insane. He finally made it to the shed. Just as he was about to turn the corner, he paused. He wanted to believe that he finally figured out the git's little scheme.

The younger blonde stood quiet on the bed, smiling quietly to himself behind his boyfriend.

Arthur lightly tapped the controller with his index finger, skeptic.

_No... this is what he wants. I'll come from the other side._

Arthur looked down at his controller trying to remember which analog stick was to make him move and which was to aim his weapon. Remembering, he turned back to the screen and made his warrior turn around. Soon as he turned back he saw a hint of blue before him. The Brit gasped out while hearing his lover snickering behind him on the bed.

_Shit!_

It was AFJHero50 right behind him, waiting.

"Hey, dude!" Alfred beamed.

"Shit!" the Brit cried, walking his player backwards to get away. He pressed the fire button frantically, making the bed shake.

AFJHero50 just stood there, without a single scratch on him from BastardTeaParty's blinding bullets. "You're shooting at the sky again," the taller blond chuckled.

"Shut your face," the Englishman cried, desperately trying to focus his camera to find his enemy. "And stop looking at my screen!"

"I'm not. I can see everything you're doing from my screen. You look ridiculous right now!" Alfred laughed, seeing Arthur's red armored Spartan going all over the place. Almost as if it were dancing.

"Shut up," Arthur cried again. "I'm still fucking getting used to this!" Finally bringing the camera back on the ground, he moved the analog stick slightly to the left and spotted Alfred's player still standing at the same spot he saw him.

_There you are you git! _

BastardTeaParty charged at AFJHero50 and fired his weapon.

AFJHero50 dashed to the side and fired back, getting hit once. He ran backwards while jumping in the air continuously.

"Stop fucking jumping!" the Brit cried.

AFJHero50 did so, running backwards instead. He aimed his handgun directly at Bastard's head.

_-Bang-Bang-Bang-_

"Fuck!"

BastardTeaParty was down.

The Brit growled, angrily slamming his fist on the mattress. "This is fucking worse than chess!" he shrieked.

"You managed to hit me twice," the American said with a shrug. "Looks like you're somewhat getting used to the controlling of the camera."

"It's stupid! How can anyone shoot, move their character, and control the camera at the same fucking time? It's horrendous, is what it is! It's fucking like having to write with both your fucking left and right hand at the same time! It's bloody torture!"

The American just continued to laugh, loving how his lover's accent was getting deeper.

The red face Brit turned to the laughing wanker. "It's _not _fucking funny, _alright_?" he cried.

"I know, I know," the American chuckled, shaking his head and holding up his hand in defense. "I'm sorry. You're just so cute when you're like this, man!"

"I am never playing this game with you _ever_ again once this is over." The Brit turned back to the game, murmuring swear words until his sprite spawned back to life. He took a deep sigh, calming down, and began moving his sprite. He was now located at what seems like inside an underground tunnel. The pathway was narrow and all was quiet. The Brit remembered this area and knew this was where the shed led to. He hated it. This was where he got gunned down or got knocked over the head with the younger player's weapon so many times. He kept walking, hoping he find the exit soon.

_If I'm going down, this is not the place I want it to be._

The Brit finally saw a ladder up ahead.

_It's about bloody time._

BastardTeaParty climbed the ladder which led him to a small empty room. Arthur scanned the room, seeing that he was all by himself. He wondered if he should just wait or continue outside. His opponent behind him was dead quiet once again, plotting something the Brit was sure. The newbie Brit decided to risk it and head outside. He was new to the area, and this was actually his first time making it to the other side of the tunnel without getting killed. _One problem solved,_ the shorter blond thought. His sprite trailed outside turning the first corner from the shed. The Brit stopped.

_Well, now..._

There was his opponent AFJHero50 up ahead, with his back turned. This was it. This had to be it.

_This is your chance, Arthur. Don't screw up!_

The Brit took the analog stick and slightly pushed it forward, trying to make Bastard walk as slowly and quietly as possible. His palms were more sweaty than before. His heart fluttered non-stop. Before he knew it, his sprite was at least five feet away from Alfred's. With his second attempt he took aim at Hero50's head.

_Bloody do it!_

_-Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang-_

The nerve wrecking Brit's mouth opened agape, seeing the message on his screen reading _'You killed AFJHero50.' _Arthur sat up, heaving a chuckle. "I did it," he said quietly. Then repeated a little louder. "I did it..." The older blond laughed happily, standing on the mattress, hopping on it like hyperactive child. "I fucking did it! Yes, I fucking raped you good AFJ! In your bloody face, wanker!" The Brit turned to his defeated lover to laugh at his face, but his excitement ceased when he saw what was before him.

The younger blond's head was leaning against his shoulder, glasses nearly slipped off his nose, breathing soundly with his joystick still grasped and placed on his lap. The older man's eyebrow twitched.

_Seriously?_

Alfred fell asleep.

The Brit frowned, throwing down his wireless controller on the mattress. "Fucking brilliant," he muttered. BastardTeaParty's so-called victory wasn't accomplished on his own. It was more like pure dumb luck. Arthur sighed annoyingly before lightly kicking Sleeping Beauty in his ribs. After two "love taps" he finally received a response.

"Mh..." The American breathed, eyes fluttering open. He sighed once more, taking his middle finger to push his glasses pass his nose. He then yawned and looked up seeing his boyfriend glaring at him. "Shit," he groaned tiredly with a grin. "Sorry, Arty."

"Don't you _'Sorry Arty' _me, git," the Brit said, arms crossed. "I got my kill, so a deal is a deal."

Alfred inhaled through his nose as he sat up, stretching out his arms with another big yawn. "Yeah, I know."

"I should have known this would be too bloody easy. Because _you_ passed out."

"Hey, you got me, didn't ya?" the taller blond said with a tired smile. Tossing his joystick to the side, he reached out and grabbed the fuming Brit's wrist. He pulled the man down on top of him. Arthur was straddling his hips, but he was too ticked off to feel turned on right now. Even though he finally gained dominance, his prize would not be as fulfilling, knowing there would be a _slight _chance that the git would fall asleep underneath him during intercourse. Alfred made a tired chuckle, wrapping his arms around the victor's waist. The Brit huffed looking down at him. "Aw, c'mon," the American, now slipping his hands underneath Arthur's shirt cooed. "I said I was sorry."

"Forget it," Arthur grumbled, trying to get off the clinging man. "You're tired. And I don't want to have sex with you if you're exhausted."

"I'm not tired." Alfred placed his cheek on the older man's chest, hearing his soothing heartbeat, so soothing in fact that it rewarded him with another yawn. The American wasn't going to deny it. He was dead tired, but he was still horny. He was amazed that he managed to stay up this long. Alfred pulled the man closer to him, wanting to stay that way all night. "Pleasseeee...?"

"No," Arthur said simply. "No sex."

Alfred made a disappointing and tired moan. "Mm... hey..." Another yawn. "...you been working out?"

"Ah..." the Brit gasped, his face tinted red. "Oh... well... I suppose every once in a while. Why?"

The American snuggled closer to his chest, inhaling his own soap he let the older man use. The taller blond thought it smelled wonderful on him. Better.(*) "You feel more tone than usual," he replied tiredly. "I could also see definition on your arms as well when we were in the shower. Looks good."

The Brit blushed more, not thinking the git underneath him would even noticed. Since the younger man went out of town Arthur suddenly decided to work out. Three days a week, eating salads more. He also decided to cut back on drinking once a day and stuck with drinking only once every Thursdays as his "cheat meal." He wasn't happy with his results. He actually wanted to have Alfred's Greek Godly figure. He knew he had a long way to achieve that goal.

The tired blond grinned. "Was it for me?"

"W-what?" Arthur stammered, feeling a lump in his throat. "W-why of course no-"

"'Cause you looked fine before."

"I did it for _me_ wanker!"

The taller blond smiled. He lifted the Brit's shirt high enough to reveal his skin. He pressed his lips against his "junior highschool football" chest, feeling the man above him shiver. Though he loved the Brit's new physic, he missed his old self even his puny beer belly. That was the Arthur he knew and grew to love. The American tiredly gave the Brit's soft, pale skin one more peck. "Even though you fail once again at lying, I'm happy to know you were looking good for me," he said.

"I'm not lying," the Brit objected. "Honest to god I'm not."

"Suuure..." another yawn emerged from the American's mouth before brushing his soft lips against and exposed nipple. "Mm... c'mon. Do me. Be the pitcher..." A yawn. "...or the catcher." A deep sigh followed by a snuggle, cheek to chest. "Be the 'Citcher'."

Arthur laughed warmly, amused by the American's tired pleas. "Absolutely not," he said before he broke free from Alfred's hold, and crawled out of bed. He grabbed the game controllers and placed them on the night table. He then walked over to the television and turned it off.

Alfred made a playful pout. "Dude, you're a party pooper."

The shorter blond grinned and crawled back to bed over to his lover. He reached over, slipping off the tired man's glasses and placed them next to the controllers. He made the American lie back on the mattress and pulled the covers over themselves. "You'll thank me in the morning. Now sleep."

"Arty, really... I want you to fu-"

Arthur placed a palm over the mumbling man's mouth, hushing him. He smiled and winked before saying, "Sleepy time, Mr. AFJHero50. We'll try again tomorrow when you're well rested." The Brit pulled his hand away from the tired American's lips, replacing it with a chaste kiss before reaching out and switched off the lamp. The street light outside the window was shining dimly as a night light. The older man nestled in bed, snuggling next to the tired youth. The last thing Arthur heard from the American was a long sigh.

Arthur too was surprised that the git managed to stay up this long after coming back from his journey. Where ever that was. Where had this man been? Four long months and he never questioned Alfred that this whole time. Was he staying with his brother? His parents? He trusted the American, which was why he never asked. But was it normal for a couple to not know what all they're doing on their free time? Maybe it wasn't the little things that mattered all that much but the big things like the younger blond being away. Did Arthur have the right to know, since they were together now?

_Even though I always say to the git whatever people do in their life is none of my concern... I can't help but to wonder if I should know what all he's been up to. _ _I want to do all I can to lend him a hand, but will I only be pushing him away if I do? God, relationships are so complicated. _

The Brit frowned slightly in the dark, pondering. "Alfred?" the Brit spoke quietly, as if not wanting to wake the American.

All was quiet except the exhausted American's soft breathing.

"Alfred?" the Brit repeated before twisting his lips and looking up at the dark. He decided to skip the question he was going to asked and substituted it with another. "Alfred was I... any good at all that first time we were together?"

No response.

The Brit blinked in the dark before he finally shrugged and closed his eyes again.

"Let's hope that you're actually asleep and not hesitating to answer."

**00000000**

Arthur felt half asleep as well as half awake. He just wanted to stay in bed all day next to the warm body next to him. Fortunately the bed felt empty and cold. The Brit slowly opened his eyes, seeing that his room was still dark. Had he not been sleeping long? And where was his git to keep him warm? The confused Brit then realized his body felt aroused, his heart was fluttering, his stomach was clenched, and something felt hot and wet between his legs. Arthur gasped as the familiar sensation continued.

_The hell...?_

The Brit sat up, but couldn't budge any further. Something heavy was pinning down his legs. Whatever it was, it was warm, and it was most likely the reason why he was feeling horny. Arthur with all his might scoot his upper body across the mattress enough to reach over his night stand and flick on the small lamp. The room had brighten, making his eyes wince. He gave his eyes time to adjust before trying to figure out what was happening. Looking down he saw the sheets covering him from the waist down. He discovered something big in the covers in between his legs, shaped like a person's body. There was a faint moan sound followed by soft suckling noises. And seeing the lump underneath the covers that was shaped like a head bobbing up and down didn't take long for the Brit to realized what was going on. The Brit turned a full shade of crimson, shivering from the tingling sensation in his lower area.

"Blimey," he managed to breath out pass his lips as he clenched tightly to the bed sheets. "Git... you _can't _be serious."

Another faint moan was heard underneath the sheets as a reply to Arthur who was in pure ecstacy.

"It's... still in the middle of the night," Arthur breathed before he slowly leaned his head back. He was going to break. "Can this n-not wait, love...?

There was no reply from the lump except the wet warmth clenched around the Brit's length tighter. Arthur collapsed back on the bed before his body arched like the letter 'C,' feeling he could reach his peek. Waking up aroused in his younger years was one thing, but this... this he could get use to. The Brit landed back on the covers, starring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, shivering every time he heard the lump between him moaned, gagged, and suckled. His stomach started to go numb from flexing it for so long. His whole body clenched wanting to release in this amazing damp warmth, but decided against it and tried his hardest to hold back. If he was to come he would rather do it with his younger lover.

The heat suddenly pulled away from the Brit's arousal. Arthur whimpered slightly from the lost of that wonderful heat, now feeling the cool air surrounding it. Arthur looked up, watching the lump in the sheets rising over him. A hand popped out, grasping the sheets and pulling it back. Arthur's heart jumped excitedly, seeing the sheets reveal the tall man, with strands of his hair out of place from the covers' doing. The Brit gazed and awed at the masterpiece before him. The younger blond was shirtless, and Arthur could see every fine detail of his muscles, abs, deltoid, pelvis. As he gazed lower, it finally caught on to the delighted and dazed Englishman that this masterpiece was fully nude. And he was as aroused as he. Arthur kept his eyes on it. How in the world was he able to take something so...

"...good lord..." the Brit breathed to himself eyes set on nothing but the masterpiece's rare craftsmanship. "...good lord... good lor-"

"Hey, Arty?"

The Brit snapped out of it and trailed his eyes back up to the handsome face who was Alfred. Alfred, with arousement in his eyes, curved his lips in a sweet-and looks to be a coy smile. He began crawling closer to the older blond, hovering over him. Arthur's breathing was feeling thick, and his heart wouldn't stop pounding. He wasn't sure if it was from excitement or nervousness. Whatever Alfred had planned, he wished he would hurry the hell up.

The American leaned over placing a soft kiss on the Brit's forehead. He pulled away before starring down the man's green eyes.

"Relax... okay?" he cooed before planting a gentle kiss on his lips.

The Brit blinked softly with confusion. Why was he being told to stay calm after the number of times they were intimate together? Right when he was going to question the younger male's request, he gasped feeling his length being grasped firmly. He watched the American sitting up hovering his hips over his.

"Hah..." the Brit whimpered. "W-wait..."

"Relax," the American repeated as he took a hold of Arthur and guiding it to his hips.

"But I'm not..." The older blond wasn't able to finish his objection as he felt his length being swallowed by something warmer and tighter. He took in short breaths and starred up at his partner. He had to take a photographic memory after seeing what he saw before him. Alfred's face was filled with pleasure and concentration as he slowly inched Arthur deeper inside him. His mouth was slightly opened followed by shivered breaths, his eyes closed in a way that he longed for this moment to happen. With another shivering sigh, the taller blond took all of the Brit in. Arthur, shocked and amazed at what was going on, only laid there flat on his back taking in all of Alfred's warmth. And shortly it felt like the images of him entering Alfred for the first time in his drunk state finally revealed itself from his blurry memory. Though he couldn't remember all details, but he definitely remembered the tight sensation surrounding him.

_Bloody... I was inside... this so called heaven once before?_

Alfred panted softly as he looked down at his lover who was in pleasure land. "Are you gonna make me do all the work like before?" he asked with a chuckle.

The Brit blushed and turned to his git on top of him. "Oh..." he stammered. "N-no... but I'm not sure if..."

"You don't need instructions, Arty. Two words: in..." The tall blond smirked lifting his hips. "out..." He lowered his hips. "In..." He raised his hips once more.

"Alfred..." the Brit gasped.

Alfred continued his actions. "Out..."

"Don't..."

"In..."

The Brit sat up and wrapped his arms tightly around the American to keep him from moving any further, fearing he would release right then. He planted his face against the younger blond's chest, having better access of his intoxicating scent. "For blimey's sake, love!" Arthur muffled on the chest, clenching tighter. "I've got it,"

The smirking American placed his hands on the Englishman's cheeks, gently pulling his face away from his chest. Arthur's flushed face looked up at him, giving his young love his full attention. "Good," he whispered before pressing his damp lips on his forehead for the second time. "I'm yours for tonight, Arty. You can totally do what you wish of me." With that being said, the taller blond began moving his hips in a slow and steady pace, still adjusting to the feeling he hadn't experienced since their first night. He stared down at his blissful Englishman who was staring in return. A soft moan escaped Alfred lips as he felt Arthur's surprisingly soft hands running along his sides then back down to his moving toned hips. The American's mouth opened with a silent gasp feeling Arthur's hands now grabbing a good hold of his buttocks. Arthur pressed down his dry lips before damping them with his tongue. His lips parted as if getting ready to speak. Alfred grinned at the Brit's cute expression. "Yes?" the American breathed.

"I..." the Brit breathed back, struggling hard to say what he wanted pass the remarkable and comforting tightness surrounding him."I... want my second attempt... to be a million times better than the first." Making a request such as Arthur had, he was certain the younger blond would laugh at that, easily amused at anything the shorter blond would do and say. Instead Alfred continued admiring Arthur's lust filled eyes while rocking his hips against his. He then made the Brit and himself fall onto the mattress before turning them both over so that Arthur was now on top. Their legs were tangled in the sheets. The American reached up placing a hand to Arthur's warm face.

"Don't beat yourself up about it," he said.

The Brit frowned. "I did suck at it, didn't I?"

"Aw, c'mon, man. You were drunk. It wasn't _too_ terrible."

"You were drunk when you first slept with me, and you were fucking brilliant at it."

Alfred smiled warmly, feeling bad for the Brit. A man being self-conscious about their size was one thing, but how they performed was the one thing many people looked over. Alfred was pleased on how the poor shorter blond wanted to satisfy him. He was lucky to have him. The American brushed a few strains of hair away from the Brit's forehead in a comforting gesture. He would be damned if he let this Englishman back out now without getting his release. He trailed his hand back to Arthur's face, caressing his cheek with a thumb. "Wanna know what I think? I think you've got what it takes, Arty."

"I'm not sure if I can be as good as you," the Brit admitted not too sure of himself now. The younger blond laughed.

"It's sex, man. Not the Ninja Warrior tournament. You'll get the hang of it. Trust me."

"Easier said than done," the Brit muttered rolling his eyes. He then yelp when he felt a pair of hands on his buttocks forcing him to make a move. The Brit turned to the American underneath him who was smirking devilishly.

"I love you, Arthur," he huskily whispered. "If you love me now's the time to show it and prove it to me."

The Brit shivered at that command. He loved Alfred with all his heart and soul, and he was willing to do anything in his power to show the man just how much. Bad in bed or not. The Brit settled himself on top of Alfred until he felt comfortable. He wrapped an arm underneath one of the younger blond's legs as he stared seriously and lovingly at him. "I love you Alfred," he breath before he slowly pulled himself out halfway. "I'm going to make you feel so bloody good..." he paused and blushed thinking of what he wanted to say. "You're going to feel so good...you'll never want to top again."

Alfred chuckled before wrapping his arms around Arthur's neck. "That's the spirit," he said huskily. "But I guess we're gonna have to find out, huh? Give me everything you got, Arty..."

The shorter blond murmured out Alfred's name before his eyes were halfway closed pushing himself forward. He sucked in his breath while the American underneath him shivered a satisfied sigh. Arthur clenched the pillow over the American's head. He took in everything that surrounded him. Savoring it. Keeping every detail inside Alfred. What other way could Arthur describe it? It was his sanctuary. It was... perfect. The American was _perfect_. The Brit was so astounded he forgot to breath. Alfred looked up at his partner and chuckled. He cupped his face, snapping him out of it.

"Hey, you," he breathed. "Pull yourself together." Arthur finally exhaled loudly already looking like they just finished.

"Bollocks..." he swore breathlessly, "why didn't you tell me it feels like... this?"

"Hey, now. We just got started. Move already." Alfred placed his hands back on the stunned man's butt, encouraging him... or more like _forcing _him push forward once more. Arthur looked down at him worriedly.

"I'm not hurting you?" he asked.

"Hurts a little, but I'm fine. You can move."

"But, love..."

Alfred made the concerned Englishman push forward once more. "You're not acting like the victor here, Arty. I thought this was what you want."

"It... it is."

The American looked deep into the nervous emerald eyes of his Englishman. Arthur was truly worried that he was going to break the man. Alfred was now touched that the Brit wanted to make sure that he was comfortable. But he was fine, and it felt nice. The taller blond placed his forehead against his partner, circling his arms around his shoulders. "You're an awesome boyfriend, Arty. And I promise you that I'm fine. Okay?"

The Brit stared back and smiled warmly. He finally decided to take the git's word for it. "Alright," he said before placing a light kiss on Alfred's awaited lips. He pulled away muttering an "I love you." Inhaling once more, the Brit pulled out slowly and repeated again and again and again. He closed his eyes and took soar of this incredible sensation, feeling like he was part of the American. The Englishman shivered and moaned on a few occasions feeling the taller blond clench around him. Arthur panted and opened his eyes to stare down at his lover. A work of art... the American was a work of art. Arthur was captivated by what he saw before him. As if things couldn't get any more beautiful, he noticed that Alfred blue orbs were fixed hungrily on him, mouth slightly parted and taking quiet shivering pants. Eyes glazed over. Beads of sweat adored Alfred's face. The Brit thought he was going to melt. It was one of the most gorgeous expressions he ever saw the American made in bed. The older man grunted with another hard thrust. "Alright?" he breathed.

Alfred shivered. "Nh... fuck yeah, man. Keep going."Arthur, without any hesitation indeed kept going, driving himself deeper inside his partner the best way he could, wanting to hear more of the taller blond's gasps and moans and every possible noise he could make. He heard Alfred hiss out a 'fuck' underneath him and the Brit gave him much more. He was willing to go longer until he threw out his back.

"Arty, wait, wait, wait..."

"Hm?" the Brit hummed slowing his pace. "Are you alright?" The young blonde sat up shaking his head.

"No, no. That's not it. I... I gotta get this."

Arthur slightly squinched his face confused. "Get what...?" The Brit stopped in mid-sentence after hearing a faint noise up front. He turned to the doorway hearing a cell phone going off. He turned back to his lover who was giving him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, dude. Uh... could you..."

"O-oh, right! Um... h-here." The elder blond sat up easily pulling himself out and rolling off the man. The taller one without hesitation immediately hopped out the bed and grabbed his nearby undergarments. He rushed out the door with underwear still in hand. The Brit stared dazedly at the American's ass for a split second, watching him leave the room, still feeling tight pressure of Alfred around him. He already missed it. Arthur sighed and placed his bottom on the bed. He looked down at the sheets spreading away the wrinkles. He turned back to the doorway, waiting patiently for him to come back. Who could be calling? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow? The older blond then started to get annoyed. The taller man did seem anxious when he left. He tried listening in to the young man up front.

"You finally watched it?" the Brit heard the America say just faintly across the apartment. He noticed how his voice was excited and pleasant. There was a pause, and a warm laugh. "I told you it was funny." Another pause, and a hearty laugh. "Yeah, he pretty much... oh. Oops..." Long pause, and an embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry, sorry. It won't happen again. My bad."

Arthur held up his hands, made a face and a displeasing noise in the back of his throat. What the hell could Alfred be talking about that was so important, late at night, and while in the middle of fucking? And the more he heard his lover up front laugh, the deeper he frowned. Could this phone call get any more absurd?

"How did you get so cute?"

And that was the last straw. Arthur was no longer horny. He sighed, rolled his eyes and snatched up the covers that were still tangled around his ankles. He lied on his side with his back turned to the door and grimaced more as he heard more of Alfred's loud cackling. The Brit sighed once more, not really caring what the conversation between the younger man and whoever was on the line anymore. Of all people, the git picked having a pointless phone conversation over his boyfriend. Arthur was pissed, and he won't deny that he was also jealous. He never made the American laugh like that before. This laugh was almost warm and thoughtful. Lovingly perhaps.

_Bloody bastard. A dandy time to have a fucking phone call at three in the morning. Doubt it's an emergency call. Might be that lady friend... Jude...? Jen? Who the devil is she? Is this going to take forever? Get off the fucking line so I can get some sleep, git._

The tired Brit pulled the covers over him more. Just then there was silence. The happy-go-lucky git was probably finished with his phone call. Arthur closed his eyes with his thick brows still forking downward. He heard footsteps coming from the hallway, and finally, felt the presence of the taller man in the room. Arthur made no sudden movement when the American chuckled behind him at the door. "Hey, you." The Brit spoke not a word. He felt the bed move slightly, and a warm arm wrapped around him. The sheets slowly slipped off his shoulders and was replaced with a pair of soft lips. The smaller man grunted and pushed the man rudely.

"I'm tired, Alfred," he murmured.

"Aw, c'mon. You weren't a few minutes ago." Alfred grinned brushing his hand across the Brit's arm giving him butterfly kisses on his neck. As arousing and tempting as it was to Arthur, he declined and shoved the man behind him.

"I am dead serious, git," he warned. "Get the fuck off me."

Alfred blinked, confused. "What's up, dude?"

The Brit sat up and turned to the younger one and stared at him like he fell on his head as a child. "Are you really _that _stupid?" he sighed. "You mean to tell me you have no idea why I'm no longer in the mood to sleep with you?"

The American held out a hand and shook his head completely at a lost. "What? Ah, Arty, I don't. Really. I..." He then paused, the idea finally clicking in. "Oh... aw, shit, Artry. I'm sorry. That was-"

The Brit turned his back to him and lied back down. "A night ruined and a waste of time. Good night."

Alfred sighed. "Dude get a grip. It was an really important call." Arthur pulled the covers back over his shoulders eyes still closed.

"Oh, sure. There is _nothing _like chatting with your girlfriend and gossiping over which contestant will be voted off on American Idol. Why yes. That beats spending quality time with your boyfriend. What's next, Alfred? Pedicures and mud baths?"

"It was an important phone call," the American repeated. "I'm being serious, dude-"

"Just shut your fucking face and go to sleep Alfred. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Alfred opened his mouth to object once more, but closed it. He hated starting arguments with Arthur. For one, it always made a turn for the worse, and the Brit knew the exact moment to push the young man's buttons. He enjoyed giving Arthur a hard time as a joke, but he knew his limits... sometimes. He stared at the man's messy locks of hair resting warmly on the pillow. He had to try. Convince him to continue their awesome love making. Even though he was already soft between the legs he could get it back up in no time. It didn't take much to get the American excited. He looked up at the ceiling, thinking long and hard. What would be the right words to smooth talk the older man? Hell, action spoke louder than words. Why would he bother with a "you look sexy when you're mad" bit? Sure, let the fingers do the talking. Alfred got Arthur Kirkland to mewl with his touch. Just one touch and the Brit would be all over him like a koala bear clenched tightly to a person's face. He succeeded once. He would succeed again. The American scooted his warm body closer to the Brit, a huge smirk slowly appearing on his face. The American's fingertips, merely inches from the Brit's ear paused suddenly when he heard (or thought) he heard him murmuring something weird. Something disturbing. "Wait... what?"

The Brit sat up having the covers slide off his shoulders and turned to the shocked man while his eyes narrowed. Arthur was in no mood for fucking jokes and games. This was no red versus blue match. They were in a relationship. A serious one. After spending the entire two minutes with his eyes closed and pondering, he decided to up and ask him this question. The thought had never crossed the shorter man's mind. Not since his lover left four months ago. Regardless how the American would react to this Arthur demanded a straight answer. "Are you fucking someone else or what?" he repeated louder. The American just sat there surprised by the sudden question.

"Arty," the young blonde barely blurted out, stunned and upset. Where the hell did this come from? Why would this man ask something so absurd? Finally with enough strength in his voice he spoke. "Arty... what the _fuck_, dude-"

"My thoughts exactly," so dry, and harsh, Arthur's eyes narrowed more. "Who have you been fucking while you were away? Hm? Four months, I kept my blooming mouth shut because I respect you and your personal business you had to tend to. I've neglected to ask you what was going on with you. Four months, I kept my distance of what I'm guessing is your 'top secret mission.' And _now _I'm hearing you up front giggling like a dumb pansy with god who knows late at night, while your boyfriend waits aimlessly with a neglected tonker that was shoved snugly up your arse. I won't ask you where you've been, Alfred. I won't ask you what the hell you did with my money. But if you're fucking someone else other than me, I demand to know." He couldn't believe the American would stoop so low. He didn't want to. They shared their 'I love yous' once. Twice. Countless times. Arthur meant each and everyone. Had the taller man's love been nothing but lies? Excuses to keep him and use Arthur as his back up? The Brit's jaws clenched as tightly as the sheets he was holding by just the thought of it. Disgusting. He sighed and looked down avoiding the American's eyes. His vision was looking blurry. _No_, he thought. _No bloody tears. Don't you dare fucking cry. _"Just fucking tell me." His words were calm and quiet, almost hesitant to ask. The American just shook his head, made a nose in the back of his throat, and held up his hands.

"Arty," he said for the third time. "I don't know what made you think-"

"Is it a woman?"

"Arthur, that phone call is not what you think it is. It's not even-"

"A man then-"

"No! God, Arty, there isn't anyone else. You should know me better than this. Will you _please _just let me-"

"Just admit to me that you're fucking a woman named Jen! Am I right?"

The American's frown soften. He held his breath in. He was frozen stiff. His slow blinking was the only thing still making actions. For what it seemed like forever, the Brit trailed his eyes at the taller blond whose face was pale. His blue orbs appeared to brighten more with fear. He looked as thought he had witnessed a person being murdered. Arthur never saw this side of him before, and it nearly crushed him.

"H...how?" the younger man's voice breathed. "How do you know..."

That was all Arthur needed to know. He sighed and closed his eyes with defeat before turning his back to the American and lied back down. "You can sleep on the couch tonight."

"Wait..." Alfred shook his head trying to get his thoughts together. "Whoa, whoa, Arthur, it isn't what you think. Arthur, I swear to god! Jen she's... she and I-"

"Good night, Alfred."

"Can I please explain my side of-"

The Brit shot up from the bed and turned half his body around to stare at the flustered bastard. Hate, rage, and hurt was in his emerald eyes. He didn't want to hear anything else he had to say. "I don't fucking want you to explain shit to me!" he exclaimed. "I want you out of my room, and leave me alone."

The American shook his head again, reaching out to hold the Brit's hands. "You don't understand, Arthur-"

The Brit snatched his hands away from the American's grasp. "Now!"

"C'mon, man... Please-"

"Get out!"

"Okay, I didn't want to say this, but you are being a real bitch right now. Will you fuckin-" Maybe what Arthur did next wasn't called for, and maybe out of the line. Before he could let the taller blond get out what he wanted to say, the younger man, as well as the older man, were taken back when a hand whipped roughly across Alfred's face. A loud smack echoed softly across the room.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!" The thick English accent barked. Then silence. The Brit stared with anger, and the American stared blankly at the wall whereas the hand had forced him to turn to earlier. Both blonds just stood silently, thoughts running through their minds at the same time. Anger. Love. Confusion. Betrayal. Regrets. Today went from a little slice of heaven to a chunk of hell. It would take more than sugar and rainbows to fix this mess. The Brit wanted to know more about this girl and how long the two of them hit it off, but he was too sick to his stomach to find out. He could see a red mark slowly appearing on the American's cheek. He didn't think he struck him that hard, but it didn't look like it would leave a bruise. Guilt however slowly began to wash over him. He didn't allow to show it. He didn't dare let the words "I'm sorry" escape his lips. No matter how painful it was to see the deadpan look on Alfred's face he didn't say anything.

Arthur's heart jumped when the taller man finally moved, thinking he was going to strike back. Instead Alfred slowly got out the bed, not once looking at the Brit, picked up the spare pillow that was placed on the head of the mattress, walked to the door and left the room with the door ajar. He heard faint movements up front, a click of a lamp being turned off, more movements, and all was quiet again. Arthur finally exhaled the breath he held in for so long. He lied back down pulling the cover over his head, hugging his knees close to his chest. Could this be over? What was going to happen tomorrow? After what happened, Arthur's body no longer wanted to rest. Frustrated, heartbroken, and overwhelmed. The Brit never felt this emotional before in his life. He never realized love made you feel like a wreck, and he wanted it to all go away. He tried his best to ignore it. The Brit wrapped the sheets tighter around him, not caring it was getting harder to breath being buried in them. "Goddamit all..." he hissed quietly, ignoring the slightly damp pillow.

_Why won't it go away?_

* * *

**Hate this update. When do I never hate my updates? After a full year of hiatus of this story, I have been sucking badly, pulling my hair in frustrating on not getting the words to come out right like I want it. I wish I was a better fanfic writer. I really do. But if this is what you guys like: easy reading that's possibly in a junior high level, I'll keep going for youse guies. FTR, I'm not much of a Halo fan. I've only seen my old roommates play a few times, so I'm not TOO familiar on how most of the stages are designed. My bad if I fucked up your fave game if you're a fan. I'm going to Metrocon again this year, so don't be surprised I disappear for another year... maybe a year and a half when Assassin's Creed III comes out. **

***see the stars***

_1. "I'd have you squealing out like a five year-old getting an Nintendo 64 for Christmas?"_ **(Please tell me you guys seen that video 'the nintendo 64 kid!' Funny shit. I can totes see Alfred reacting like that if he were a kid. I mean his reaction was almost similar when Kiku first took him to his home country in Hetalia.)**

_2. "I was thinking more of the lines of bawling out like a father with a drinking problem after being told by his son that he still loves him at an intervention, but... whatever rocks your balls,"_**(Okay what about this video 'Best Cry Ever?' ...then fucking watch it! funny shit!)**

_3. "Only on one condition: no rocket launchers, no snipers, no whacking each other with our weapons, and for blimey's sake no 'tea bagging' me after you shot me down." _**(My roommates who play Halo used to do the tea bagging thing a lot when they shoot down their opponents online... once again, funny shit)**

_4. The American snuggled closer to his chest, inhaling his own soap he let the older man use. The taller blond thought it smelled wonderful on him. Better._ **(Remember a few chapters ago Arthur also felt this way about that bar of soap smelling better on Alfred than him?)**


	4. Fuck Favors

**Insert A/Ns here, blah blah: **" " "

yeah I procrastinated for nearly two or so years. Might be longer. Writing is fucking hard, and I realize this now. No one has beta'd this yet so forgive me for the super bad errors and the super short chapter. I hope it doesn't lead to that from here on.

**EDIT:** A Huge thanks to **Verlerious** for being my new AND official beta girl from here on. hope i'm not being too harsh. i know there have been some of you who have been wanting to beta my chapters as making it a naughty excuse to read the chapters before the other readers do. ANYWAY check out **Verlerious**' fanfictions as well. She's great. And please don't ask her dumb questions that's already been answered in her story. Just... don't be dumb.

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**_ **(fuck my life)**

**BFFF: Love Will Make it Certain**

**-'Fuck Favors'-**

**00000000**

* * *

"Super Heroes Verses Super Villains."

"We did that last year."

"Oh, yeah..."

"What about Cops and Robbers?"

"We did that also. Four times during the following year in fact."

"Cowboys and Indians."

"Cowboys I don't see a problem. But wouldn't it be offensive to dress as Indians, seeing how none of us are Native American?"

"Lance is half Native American."

"I am... but still. Don't fucking do that."

Companies like International Club of Men, a male strip club, took their work seriously. Passionately. They would go out of their way to satisfy each and every customer if possible. They would also have weekly mandatory meetings to make the club so successful it would even make Macy's go out of business.

"CandyLand."

"Aw, hell naw. Y'all ain't gonna catch me wearing candy stripe tights and a fucking cherry on my bald head."

"Shit, I wish America were here. He was good coming up with new themes for the club."

They would go so far in their career that they refused to end the meeting until they came up with a perfect theme for the next event. Mr. America, the former male stripper, was brilliant with the best ideas and the best plans to keep ICOM alive. Since he left six months ago, the excitement was bland. The customers were restless. The dancers' tips were stacked high enough to purchase a pack of bubble gum at the ninety-nine cent store. Things were not looking up for the crew. They needed help, and quick.

"Fellas, c'mon," the manager and founder of the joint bellowed. He was frustrated after being stuck for an hour and a half inside the closed club with his best men. The air condition was on, and without a crowded room, it would get uncomfortably cold. He was ready to leave. Even though he was in his early forties, he was a highly attractive dark skinned male. Tall, lean, and wearing his favorite short sleeve shirt to show off his incredible muscles. He was once a stripper in his early years. Kwamba Mtu was his stage name. His real name was still unknown to his coworkers. He liked it better that way since he was always a mystery to his customers. It wasn't long before he settled down with a lovely wife, his twins of two months, and a pair of Rottweiler pups. He had been sharing his wisdom and knowledge of stage performing to his younger co-workers ever since.

Kwamba pressed his face into his palms. Though massaging the tension off was bliss it didn't make things better. Shit was going to hit the fan if they didn't come up with a fucking theme for this coming weekend. "We've been doing alright long before Alfred became part of the team. He's doing his own thing, now."

"And we've been much better since Alfred was part of the team," Ying added.

"Boss," Ying's twin Yang spoke, "it really couldn't hurt to just give him a call an-"

"Forget the damn call, Yang," the boss objected pointing his finger directly at his coworker like he was a dog getting ready to take a piss on the carpet. "We need to do this on our own. We can't count on him. It just wouldn't be fair."

The men grew quiet.

Kwamba reached behind him fluffing the heart shaped pillow before settling back on the comfy, leather couch. He rested his ankle on his knee, placed his laced fingers on his stomach, and cleared his throat looking at them all. "Okay then..."

Silence still greeted the room.

The owner sighed rotated the thumb ring a few times. No talking. Everyone's brains were a total blank. Kwamba clenched his teeth with anger. He held out his hand. "Someone give me my damn phone."

With no hesitation, Ying dashed to the bar and fetched the owner's smart phone and tossed it to him.

Kwamba caught it and immediately scanned through the screen for a specific phone number. "This don't make us selfish punks right?" he asked. "Just this one fucking favor, and after that we're on our own... right?"

The crew silently nodded agreeing.

"'Man-squerade.' Has a nice ring to it, don't ya think?"

Kwamba slowly looked up from his phone at the entrance followed by the other club members.

The new voice who spoke from the doorway approached them. It was almost as if a light was haloing around him being the answer to the club's prayers. The person grinned adjusting his glasses. "Of course we could add a little bondage to it," he continued, "seeing how most of us are into that kind of thing."

"Holy shit!" both Ying and Yang cried out in unison.

"Alfred?" Kwamba said carefully making sure he wasn't going crazy even though the other members were seeing the man in front of him as well.

The blonde man stood straight, heels together, giving them a perfect salute. "ICOM member number 50! Mr. America at your service! Well... for a few days at least."

All members including the owner sprang from the couches and crowded the former member, patting his back, giving him high fives and daps, and even warm hugs. Kwamba looked around realizing he hadn't seen the crew this happy and excited in months. Since Mr. America joined the club he had brought the whole team together. Before he joined most of the crew had beef against one another. Some were even jealous with each other. Something about Mr. America's free spirit, personality, and vibes made the crew forget that they couldn't stand one another. Kwamba had to admit. Because of Alfred, his club was a whole lot better with him around.

"Man, you said you weren't sure when you'd come back," said Demarcus, elbowing the blonde man in the ribs.

Alfred grinned, rubbing his ribs slightly. "I wasn't," he replied. "Thanks to a friend of mine I was talked into coming back for a visit."

"Ah-ha! To spend some quality time with your English king I see!" Demarcus elbowed him once more while the others were in a fit of snickers.

Mr. America face fell slightly for a second before he laughed at his crew, giving Demarcus a slight punch on the shoulder. Kwamba caught the blonde's expression.

"So," spoke Leroy with a grin, "the guy who was a V.I.P. guest that you were all grinding up on is your boo, huh?" The other members all looked at Alfred, waiting for an answer.

"I never would have passed you off as being gay, man," spoke another member, Joshua. He held up his hands in defense. "Not like there's nothin' wrong with that. I mean... you don't act-"

"Not every gay guy is feminine, Joshua," Ying defended. "And what does it matter?"

"Hey, man. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying."

"So are you bisexual?" Yang interrupted.

Alfred blushed adjusting his glasses feeling all eyes on him. "Technically, yeah," he answered. "At... the time I didn't know I felt that way towards men. Arthur-he..." the blonde chuckled slightly looking down. "Even if he were a woman I'd still love him..."

More members were talking all at once until Kwamba broke through the crowd and whistled loudly to quiet them. "Alright, fellas! At ease," he cried, pushing a few members to the side. "We got our theme: 'Man-squerade!' I want you guys to brain storm and come up with last minute things we need to set up this club. Ya'll can reunite with Mr. America later." The owner patted the blonde on the back slightly while gesturing his head to the back of the club that lead to his office. Alfred followed him happy to get away from the curious mob.

The owner unlocked the door letting the blonde inside first. This would probably be at least Alfred's sixth time seeing his office, and nothing really changed. Kwamba loved velvet things, from the carpet to his personal recliner in the corner of his room. The blonde could still remember when he was first interviewed. There was the slight smell of the cherry wood walls mixed with ferns that had been properly taken care of. There was a fireplace covered in different small African theme statues, oil paintings of African women, and the bookshelf that was filled with mostly sci-fi and fantasy stories and very little politics and biographies. That made the blonde chuckle every time.

"Ah," Alfred grinned going over to the desk and picking up a small picture frame of his old boss with his wife and two new born twins at the hospital. "This is new. They're really beautiful, dude."

"It's funny how life changes you," Kwamba replied offering his old employer a seat before going around his desk and sitting. "Those three girls are my world. Wouldn't give them up for nothing."

"Yeah. Life is funny." Alfred was still staring at the photo but appeared to be deep in thought.

The owner stared at the former dancer carefully. "There's nothing wrong with being gay, man."

Alfred broke away from his trance and stared at Kwamba. "I'm sorry?"

"Well, I..." the owner began, sitting up a bit to make himself comfortable, "I hope the fellas didn't make you feel uncomfortable. My brother... when he came out and told me and my parents things just weren't the same. I still love my big brother. Mom and pop though..." Kwamba reached over and took the photo from Alfred and placed it back where it was. "Well... it is what it is."

"That night when I saw you performing, there were a few angry customers demanding that I stop you. I told them it was clearly obvious that you two were having a good time, and if they didn't agree they could go find some other club. Ya'll weren't hurting anybody."

"No, it's cool," the blonde reassured, holding up his hands. "Funny, 'cause I actually had this same discussion with Arthur once. He realized he was attracted to me, and kept denying it."

"Did you two have a fight?"

"Aw, man! Did we! I was pouring out all my feelings to him, and he would push me away saying he wasn't gay and-"

"No I mean," the owner interrupted, "did you two fight recently? Yesterday or something?"

The blonde grew quiet for a second. He gave his old boss a small smirk. "Things have been complicated, K. A big misunderstanding."

"Alfred," Kwamba leaned back in his chair placing his intertwined fingers on his chest, lightly flinging out his feet, and resting them on his desk before continuing. "On that day when you shocked the club, announcing that you were leaving... just out of the blue, I won't lie when I say I was a little concerned. The first thought that came to mind was you were about to get 'whacked.' My second guess was there must have been family issues back home... well, considering you never really talk about your family. So-"

"What the heck made you think someone is out to whack me, man?" the blonde asked with a raised brow.

"I played both sides-but that's not the point," the owner quickly pressed on, clearing his throat and placing his feet back on the floor to get comfortable again. "Alfred, you're my boy and I care about you as much as the others that came before you. You told me in this exact room, days before Medieval night, that you had to earn as much money as possible at your performance. I didn't say anything when I noticed how distant and nervous you looked. I know whatever this situation was it had nothing to do with your boyfriend."

"K..."

Kwamba held up his hand, not finished. "I have never seen you like that before. I'm used to laid back, adventurous, all American hero Alfred. That day I saw a... 'I'm scared off my balls' Alfred, and today a quick 'could things get any worse?' Alfred." Kwamba pulled out his drawer fetching for something. He pulled out a three ring binder and placed it on the desk. "You have nothing to feel embarrassed about, Alfred. You wouldn't believe me if I told you that others up front are struggling just as bad. The stories they told me could make a grown ass man cry. And they have my word when I say it's between me and them. So..." the mysterious former dancer opened the binder revealing blank checks. Two clicks were heard, and a fancy black ink pen began filling out today's date.

Alfred shook his head sitting up. "K, man-"

"How much do you need, Jones?" Kwamba asked, eyes still glued to the off blue colored blank check.

"I didn't come here to beg for money."

"I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that you're under a lot of pressure no matter how fucking good you are hiding it from your homeboys out there. In case you've forgotten, I'm older, and I've been there."

Alfred reached over and closed the binder. "I can't let you do this."

Kwamba slowly opened the binder back up. "I can do whatever I fucking please. You're taking this check. Is five thousand okay for you?"

"I'm not struggling."

"You're not convincing me. Do you need ten thousand?"

The blonde frowned and angrily closed the binder on the man's hands once more. "I don't need your goddamn charity, Kwamba. I just came to visit my friends."

"You know what my mom told me once?" the owner opened the binder back up, continuing to fill out the entire check, "If someone offers you something fucking take it. You may never get that opportunity again."

"Wanna know what my dad once told me?" Alfred said getting up. "You're a piece of shit, you don't deserve happiness, and you'll never amount to anything. Your mother's a whore and your half-brother's a retard."

Kwamba looked up at the frowning blonde for what seemed like forever. Whatever the fight between the blonde and his boyfriend was about, Kwamba could see it did not end well. Then again, if it was a so-called misunderstanding the blonde wouldn't be fuming this much. Something else was going on with Alfred. The owner could clearly see it. Finally, he went back to writing the check. "I'll put you down for fifteen thousand," he said calmly.

"Fuck these favors," Alfred roughly pushed the chair to the side, letting it fall over and grabbing the binder, tossing it across the room in the process, knocking several of the knickknacks off the fire place. "And fuck you." He made a beeline toward the door, angrily twisting the knob. It opened only halfway. A dark hand was placed on the cherry wood forcefully closing it shut, the wind blowing the blonde's bangs. Mr. America turned seeing the black man towering over him, more muscular and big enough to block his path. The blonde's slightly freckled nose was barely touching the brown one.

"I don't care if you're employed here or not," he said in a low, threatening voice. "Don't fucking disrespect me, don't fucking disrespect my check book, don't fucking disrespect my statues and furniture that I paid for with my own money, and don't you fucking dare take your anger out on anyone else like that ever again. Do you fucking understand me, number 50?"

Alfred just stared hard into the man's dark eyes, no fear, not shrinking down and cowering at him. Defeated, he trailed his eyes down to the floor and nodded. "Yes sir," he murmured.

The boss turned to the side and forcefully pointed at the mess the blonde made. "Put my shit back to where it was and sit your white ass back down."

The blonde quietly obliged. With perfect memory he placed the statues back to the exact places they'd been standing, picked the binder off the floor and gently placing back on the desk. He sat the chair back up, and sat back down facing the owner who was already seated and waiting.

Quietly Kwamba opened the binder back to the unfinished check. He placed intertwined fingers on the desk and made deep eye contact with the blonde. "Start from the very beginning," he said calmly.

The blonde only stared, not saying a word.

The African American held up his hands with a chuckle and sat back on his chair. "We can sit here all day. I could care less if you miss your flight in the next few days. I'm not letting you leave until you tell me what's been going on. And don't fucking lie to me. I will find out. Once we're done I'll give you a check, you can leave the office, and no one has to know but you and me. You have my word."

Alfred reached for his bifocals, slipping them off before rubbing his tired eyes with his thumb and index finger. He was exhausted. He wanted out, but there was no other way. Giving in, he placed his glasses on the desk and turned back to his former boss. "Alright," he murmured with a tiny shrug. 

* * *

**Sorry for the abrupt ending as always. I felt it was best to stop here. I coulda went on and started off with Arthur's pov after this part, but I'm still brain storming. This is the best I can do for now guys, but I appreciate for the ones still being patient and checking in up on me to see if I'm still alive. So much has happened in the past year and a half. I'm just so happy I managed to get a new update even if it is short. Well as always hang in there thanks for reading and be safe!**

**-Hoggy **


	5. Wasting Time

**Author... say some things: **Alright... new chap already. So far so good. I can do this... I know I can. Once again I haven't got this beta'd yet. My partner in crime **Verlerious **(go to her profile and read her fics also) is at work and won't be able to check it 'til she gets off**. **Again sorry for the terrible errors. I haven't went to bed yet... just thought you all should know.

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**_

**BFFF: Love Will Make it Certain**

**-Wasting Time-**

**00000000**

Fourteen missed calls. Ten unheard voice messages. Seven unread text messages. The Englishman's phone was going off more than the countless ringing of the phones at his job that took him no later than a month and a half to tune out and get use to when he first got hired there. He didn't bother to glance over to see who was contacting him. After the eighth annoying notification jingle of a text message he reached over and pressed down the side button of his phone until everything was completely muted. He turned back over in the mattress and pulled the covers over his head.

After the late night fight Arthur took a few sleeping pills and chugged down two bottles of hot beer he had stashed away under his bed. He slept with ease. His other two options were to either cry himself to sleep or stare angrily at the ceiling hearing faint sounds of the American tossing and turning in the squeaky, old couch up front all night. He woke several hours later, 8:50AM to be exact, to sounds of rattling keys and a door opening and closing. Things were quiet ever since. The bushy brow man was in bed all day feeling numb and drowsy from the generic ibuprofen PM medicine. How many did he take? The Brit turned back to the nightstand to take a glance at his clock. It was 2:47 PM. The Brit sighed.

What the bloody hell happened? This is not how this wonderful weekend was supposed to start. Face it, Kirkland. He's been cheating on you. No worse. He lied. He's been with this Jen girl long before you were in the picture. That's why he went out of town... so he could be with her.

Arthur's vision was going blurry again. He clenched his eyes shut, burying his face into the covers.

"Don't do this," he murmured over and over. "Don't fucking do this to yourself."

_-knock-knock... KNOCK-KNOCK-knock-knock...KNOCK-KNOCK...-knock-knock... KNOCK-KNOCK-knock-knock...KNOCK-KNOCK-_

The Brit blinked from the faint noise up front.

I know that knock.

_-knock-knock... KNOCK-KNOCK-knock-knock...KNOCK-KNOCK... -knock-knock... KNOCK-KNOCK-knock-knock...KNOCK-KNOCK-_

He pulled the sheets over his head, hoping it will die out the noise.

_Go away..._

Arthur remained still in the sheets, hoping his guest would leave. A minute turned into two.

_-knock-knock... KNOCK-KNOCK-knock-knock...KNOCK-KNOCK-_

Then three minutes.

_-knock-knock... KNOCK-KNOCK-knock-knock...KNOCK-KNOCK... -knock-knock... KNOCK-KNOCK-knock-knock...KNOCK-KNOCK-_

The guest knew the Englishman was home, and Arthur knew they weren't going to give up until he answered the door. Either that or the neighbors would call the police for their disruption. Making an annoyed growl under his breath he angrily threw the sheets to the side and hopped out of bed. He snatched up his discarded jeans and wrinkled t-shirt and slipped them on.

_-knock-knock... KNOCK-KNOCK-knock-knock...KNOCK-KNOCK-_

Arthur rolled his eyes while dragging his sluggish feet down the hallway with a sigh. "Alright! Alright! I'm coming!" He got near the door hearing voices behind it, sounds of free styling.

("Shake it, shake it, baby! Shake it like you're full grown...")

"Do they have to do this every time they visit?" Arthur grumbled out before unlocking the door and angrily swung it open. Immediately, the Brit braced himself as four dark-skinned females rushed inside surrounding him, grinding their round ends against his body. The Brit just stood there with his arms folded sighing and waiting for them to finish.

_Miss Brandy, Miss Chemise, Miss Shea, and Miss Shonda... of course._

"Shake it, shake it, baby! Shake it like you're full grown!

If you don't wanna party, take your boring ass home!

Twerk it, twerk it, mama! Twerk it like they owe you cash!

Bounce that ass, ounce that ass! And you still got some class!

If you ain't got dat green,

then you gonna make me mean!

If you ain't gotta dolla,

why the hell you try'na holla?"

The girls were in a fit of giggles, embracing the tired Brit leaving kiss marks on his cheeks and forehead. This was like a routine each time the Brit's lady friends came over for a visit. They would always seem to come over at the wrong time then perform a little salutation song. The they would smother him with hugs and kisses. It was cute for a while, but it was really starting to get old quick.

The short blonde raised his hand brushing pass the divas, making his way towards the kitchen. "Ladies, please," he sighed. "It's early."

The girls began to snicker.

"Early?" Brandy cried with a waxed eyebrow raised. "British boy, what you been drinking on that got you thinkin' it's five in the mornin'?"

"More like who he be sleeping underneath that got him thinkin' it's five in the morning. Know what I'm sayin'?" Shea butted in followed by a group of cackling divas giving each other high fives, a few reaching over nudging the Brit's ribs.

Arthur only sighed going through his freezer and pulling out some frozen waffles. He then paused and turned to them. "Wait, so..." he began, "so you know...?"

"That Alfred's here?" Chemise finished. "Sure did!"

"We've been keeping it from you for a whole month," Shonda added.

"We wanted to tell you sooooo bad, Arthur," Shea giggled. "Didn't you get our calls and texts? We've been trying to reach you all damn day."

The blonde turned back to his frozen breakfast. "What other secrets has he kept from me?" he muttered to himself.

"So you just now got up?" Brandy asked going over to the kitchen, rumbling through his cabinet and grabbing a twinkie. "Damn. Ol' boy hit that ass pretty good last night then."

Right on cue the Englishman plugged his ears from the roaring cackling of the college girls. He just wasn't in the mood. "Ladies..."

"Is he here?" Chemise spoke joining them in the kitchen as well.

Brandy took a small bite of her treat before saying, "We stopped by to see if you ya'll wanted to hang at Umi's."

The Brit struggled to open the box. "He's not-"

"Umi's?" Shea pouted. "I thought we were gonna take them to Beef O' Brady's."

"I mean..." Shonda smacked her lips while seating herself on the couch, crossing her legs. "We could but it's always crowded in there. And it's more of a sports bar."

Arthur clawed at the frozen box. His fingers were getting cold, making it even more difficult to open. "We've..." he tried speaking once more.

"You said Umi's?" Chemise joined. "I thought you said Dooey's. They got good soul food there."

"I'm getting tired of soul food, gurl. I want sushi!"

Arthur tried pulling the cardboard zipper which read 'open here' but only seem to make it look so taunting. "He's not..."

"I want catfish though," Shonda whined.

"Dooey's serve catfish."

"But they always have it overcooked. I prefer the grilled fish at Brady's."

"I mean... sushi is mainly fish ya'll."

Shonda, Chemise, and Shea faced Brandy. "It's raw!" they cried out in a British accent. They turned to each other and were in a fit of giggles.

The Englishman only managed to rip off half the cardboard zipper. He was shaking with anger.

"Fuck ya'll! Ya'll can get it cooked. Look, I officially said that we're going to Umi's. But if Alfred and Arthur wants something different th-"

The chattering broke from the sounds of a frozen cardboard box angrily tossed by a nearby full dish rack. Silverware rattled and some hit the floor from the violent force. Brandy, Chemise, Shea, and Shonda snapped their necks to the blonde man who was breathing hard, clenched fist pressed firmly on the counter. The girls were scared to say anything. It wasn't long before they discovered what caused the man's outburst.

"He's cheating on me, alright?" an angry Brit bellowed surprising the ladies behind him. "We had a bloody fight last night... and I found out he's cheating on me."

"Say what, now?!" Brandy cried, putting the sweet cake down and going over to him.

Chemise frowned and went over to him, placing her hands on his trembling shoulders. "Arthur," she said soothingly. "Arthur, are you sure?"

"Her name is Jen." The Brit broke free from the woman's hold and left the kitchen. He dragged his bare feet to the couch and plopped down with a shaky sigh.

Shonda slid closer to him and placed a comforting hand on his knee. "How long this been going on, baby?" she asked.

The Brit took a deep breath, forcing the tears not to build up in his eyes. Finally exhaling, he explained. "A few months ago I spent the night at his apartment. I was going through his board games, and there were several of them that had the words Jen on them. I assumed it was his sister's."

Brandy walked over to the couch and placed her round bottom on it next to the Brit. "I thought he said one time when we first met him that he only gotta brother," she said, cupping his other knee. "He ain't got no sister."

"Well, I bloody know that now! Late last night while we were..." the Englishman gestured his hands shyly, embarrassed to say the word in front of them.

"Fucking?" Brandy helped him.

"Yes, yes. When we were doing... that, he got a call from someone."

"You mean he took the call while ya'll were in the middle of making love?!" Shea asked with a hand on her hip. "No he didn't go there!"

"Please let me finish, Miss Shea. He went up front talking to them, laughing up a fucking storm. When he came back in I asked him if he was keeping something from me... and that's when I brought up Jen. The shocked look on his face explained it all... I..." Arthur leaned his head back against the cushions, pressing his hands to his face with another shaky sigh. He was scared to bring up the next part.

Shonda squeezed his knee tighter, encouraging him to continue.

"I hit him," he muffled behind his hands.

Shea went over behind the couch and reached over, grabbing his wrists. He made the Brit pull his hands away from his face so they could hear him clearer.

"I hit him," he repeated louder, "and told him to get out of my sight. He slept on the couch and I heard him leave the apartment early this morning." He turned to Brandy, shaking his head with defeat. "He's been gone ever since."

"Now hold on, Arthur," Chemise called over to the kitchen and swayed over to the living room joining them. She sat on the coffee table facing him. "No offense, but there have been times when somethin' goes wrong you can overreact. Now think hard for me, baby. Did you even get to hear Alfred's side of the story?"

The short blonde frowned, sitting up. "Well, I..." he paused, staring down at the floor, biting his lower lip. "No, I... I-I suppose I haven't."

"Well there you go," Shea joined coming around the couch and sitting next to Shonda. "Arthur, for all we know it might be a big misunderstanding."

"And if not," Brandy added, "we gonna kick that bitch's ass."

"Brand!" Shonda warned.

Arthur saw the girls' point. Half of the time he was wrong about things. Maybe this could be a big misunderstand. And he didn't even give his lover time to explain his side. Whenever his short temper got the best of him he never let his burger eating git speak. But there were still things that didn't add up to the Englishman. He felt Alfred was still hiding something from him.

"Miss Chemise. There have still been things... things that I still don't know about him."

"What do you mean?" Chemise asked.

"Yeah, ya'll been dating long enough to know each other," Shea recalled.

"Even if a couple have been married for over twenty goddamn years," Arthur replied, "that doesn't mean they still know everything about each other. I thought you girls were keeping up with that Lifetime Network thing on the telly."

The divas looked at each other with a half shrug, rolling their eyes.

"But really. After we got back from ICOM that night he told me how he's been working three jobs to earn more money." Arthur paused giving the girls their time to react on the American's crazy situation. He continued. "I'm surprised he hasn't fallen asleep behind the wheel on the way home. He assured me that nothing was wrong. He said he had a little emergency but it was nothing serious."

"A'ight," Brandy spoke out. "I remember you saying he had to go outta town. Where did he go?"

"I don't know," the Brit answered.

"Did he say he had to earn money to pay off a tuition or somethin'?" Shea asked.

"I don't know," the Brit answered.

"Maybe he was earning money for Jen?" Chemise suggested.

"I don't know," the Brit answered.

"Do you think maybe it was a charity thing?" Shonda butted in.

"I don't know."

"Goddamn, British boy," Brandy cried. "You and this fine boy been in a long ass distance relationship, and you mean to tell me that you never bothered to asked how he been doing, what he been doing, why he been doing, where he been doing, when he been doing, and most importantly... _who_ he been doing?"

"I've just been so hesitant to ask if his situation's been taken care of," Arthur got up from the couch slowly pacing back and forth. "He's leaving Tuesday... so clearly whatever it is it's far from over."

"Arthur, I just can't see how you've been going through four months without knowing what all he's been doing this whole time," Shonda admitted shaking her head as her highlighted bangs swayed from side to side. "What's good in a relationship if you don't know what ya'll be doing twenty-four seven?"

"Okay?!" Brandy agreed.

The Brit heard the girls talking at once, highly agreeing at what Shonda just said. He knew she was speaking the truth. He stopped in the middle of the room staring at the ceiling before turning back to the concerned girls. "Ever since he's been here he's in another world when I talk to him. He even was acting bonkers before he left. When we bring up little things like... story books he goes all quiet on me. And the way he stares at me with those... those eyes. He's all smiles, but his bloody eyes are sad and depressing sometimes. It looks like he wants to tell me something, but he holds it in and just continues giving me that goofy grin of his. I'm scared if I bring it up he'll distance away from me much further."

"Oh, Arthur..." Shea said in the verge of tears.

"Chamise," Brandy turned to the skinny woman on the coffee table, "you hung out with Alfred the most when you volunteered to host the 'Men-dieval' event at ICOM. Was he actin' strange or did you see any unusual signs comin' from him?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Chamise replied folding her arms thinking. "He looked okay when I was talking to him back stage. He told me to keep his bomber jacket safe when he toss it to me during his performance." She shook her head and chuckled a bit. "He's really obsessed with that jacket."

The Brit turned away from the girls slowly pacing again. "He told me it was special to him," he murmured.

"Yeah! That's exactly what he told me." She then paused. "Wait. But something weird did happen before he was getting ready to perform on stage that night."

Arthur turned back to the girl talking, frowning slightly.

"Some little dude came from nowhere calling for him. The bouncers tried to kick him out for trespassing, but Alfred told them that he was cool. Alfred told me he'll be back, and they went somewhere in private. Next thing I know the guy stormed out, and he rudely bumped into me."

"Who was he?" Shonda asked leaning closer.

"Gurl, I dunno. Trey... naw. It was Tony I think."

"Did Alfred say what was going on, then?" the Brit asked going back over to the couch.

Chemise shook his head. "All he told me was he was just an old friend. That he didn't want Alfred to go out of town or something."

"Now hold up," Brandy interrupted holding up her pedicured hands, her golden bangles jiggling in the process, "I had trouble with some dude who rammed into me and didn't say sorry. Was this dude wearing like a thin t-shirt with dirty blonde hair?"

"Looked like he was in his late teens and early twenties?" Shonda added.

"And just looked bloody mad?" Arthur continued.

"That's the same description," Chemise nodded.

"_I've_ met him before at the Café Lindbergh restaurant," the blonde explained. "He works there and was just a rude, little wanker... but how does he know Alfred? And why the devil was he bloody looking for him?"

"Maybe that was his little brother?" Shea guessed.

"He told me his brother lives in Toronto," Arthur shook his head.

"Ya know what?" Brandy huffed, standing. "Fuck it! Let's just go to that café and see what all this fool knows."

"After that little incident at the club?" Shonda smacked her lips and rolling her eyes, "I doubt he'd _ever_ wanna see or hear from us, gurl."

"Well I don't care," Arthur folded his arms, looking determined. "Clearly he knows something. And I want to find out what the hell it is."

The girls got up from their seats and talked amongst themselves.

"Oh, don't worry, British boy," Brandy grabbed Arthur's hands, squeezing them with comfort. "We'll get to the bottom of this."

"But first uh... heh," Shea grinned, reaching over tugging the Brit's wrinkled shirt. "How 'bout you get situated first?"

The divas giggled at the man's sleeping clothes and smudged lip stick on his face.

"Oh..." the blushing Englishman looked down at his attire. "Right."

**00000000**

The Brit was the first to walk inside casually followed by the chattering girls behind him who were scheming on what to do if this Tony fellow tried anything. Arthur walked up to the tall, young host at the podium. The gentleman looked up from his guest list and greeted them all with a warm smile.

"Hi there," he politely said. "Welcome to Café Lindbergh. Table for five today?"

"Um, actually," the Brit held up his hand, denying the request. The girls were still rudely babbling to one another. "We were actually here for..."

"I'm gonna kick his nuts if he touch me. I do know that," Brandy said a bit too loud.

Both men eyes widened. Diners turned to the group, and forks were clattering on a plate from a distance. The Englishman turned to the loud divas. "Ladies..." he whispered.

The talking continued.

"Ladies!" he barked. "Please!"

The divas grew quiet and turned to the annoyed Brit.

"Thank you," he breathed before turning back to the host. "Right! Me and my companions here are actually looking for a Mr. Tony. Is... he working today?"

The young host made a noise in the back of his throat. "Really?" he chuckled. "You're friends with Tony? Is that even possible?"

"Oh, honey," Shea walked over to the host, placing a hand on his shoulder, "_hell_-to-da no. Trust us when I say that we are definitely not friends with that fool." She then grinned, eyeing him up and down noticing how cute he was with his short boy cut hair and six gauge white plugs in each ear. The host grinned at her in return.

Brandy stepped forward crossing her arms. "We actually gotta bone to pick with him. So is he here or what?"

"Well you're in luck," the host leaned against the podium, tapping his book with his ink pen, "he is working today, but he just went out back for a cigarette break. Man, you have no idea how happy you made me. It's about time he's taught a lesson. Can I..." the host looked over his shoulder real quick and turned back to them, "watch you guys fight him?"

"Oh, baby," Brandy cackled throwing her hands up and throwing up what seems like to the Brit jumbled up sign languages, "you can bring the whole staff. Cuz it's gonna be like G town up in dis-"

"No-_Nooo_," the Brit got between the girls and the host, holding out his hands. "We are not... here to fight anyone. Please. We just need to talk to him. That's all."

"Okay, okay," the host held up one hand in defense and adjusting his neck tie with the other. He slipped his ink pen in his vest pocket. He turned and motioned his two fingers to the group over his shoulder. The Brit and his companions without hesitation followed him to the back. They had to go through the busy kitchen. The chefs were calling out to one another from across the room. Water boiling, pots and pans clattering, flames blazing. They didn't seem to notice the group passing by. Finally they reached the exit. The host pressed the knob and pushed the door out and held it for the girls. The Brit came out last and looked over seeing a young man with dirty blonde hair leaning against the wall with a cigarette to his lips while having trouble striking the lighter.

"Tony!" the host called to him still holding the door open so he wouldn't get locked out.

The young, dirty blonde didn't answer.

"Tony!" the host called louder. "Someone's here to see you."

The dirty blonde still didn't reply, only trying to light up his cigarette.

"And possibly kick your dumb ass," the host muttered to himself. He turned to Arthur. "Good luck with that. I gotta go back up front."

"Right," the Brit nodded to him. "Thank you."

The host nodded in return before turning to Shea and winked.

Shea grinned and shaped her hand like a phone pressed to her ear mouthing "number" at him.

The host nodded, lightly throwing his thumb over his shoulder and mouthing a "meet me up front," and headed back inside.

Brandy nudged the Brit's shoulder. "British boy."

"Right, right," Arthur whispered, holding up his hand at her before slowly approaching the kid. It appeared that Tony still didn't notice the group's presences. The Englishman walked over to him until he was at least five feet away from him. Tony still paid no mind. He had his slightly bent cigarette hanging slightly off his chapped lips, one hand cupping over the other that was trying to ignite the lighter.

_-flick...flick...flick...-_

"Um..." the Brit's cracked voice began while rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "good afternoon..."

_-flick...flick...flick...-_

"I'm sorry to disrupt you during your lunch hour. You probably don't remember me and my friends here."

_-flick...flick...flick...-_

"You see, um... we've met before here and we ran into each other again at the strip club. You see..."

_-flick...-_

"...my boyfriend actually works there, and I think you might know him."

_-flick...flick...-_

"We have some questions we would like to ask you-"

"Arthur, it's too hot for this shit!" Brandy burst out walking over to them while fanning herself with her hand. "Who is Alfred Jones to you, and are you fucking him?"

The Brit slapped his forehead. "Miss Brandy!" he bellowed.

_-flick...flick...flick...-_

Brandy smacked her lips with a shrug. "What? We're just trying to get the facts here are we not?"

"We are, but can we please handle this in a mature and proper manner without starting a damn blood bath?"

"Might as well start one! Unless he give us a proper apology from the other night he gonna clock back in with a broken jaw."

"We are not here for an apology, Miss Brandy. We are here to find out what all he knows about Alfr-"

"He's a selfless punk."

The Englishman and the divas turned to the new voice. The dirty blonde leaning against the wall flicked his zippo one more time. A few puffs of smoke shot out from behind his hand, and a tiny metal click was heard. The young café waiter slipped the lighter back in his pocket while holding the stick between his fingers, inhaling it deeply. He pulled the cigarette away from his lips, trapping the smoke in his lungs.

"He fucking never thinks about himself or his needs," Tony continued before exhaling the smoke.

"...so you've been fucking him?" Brandy asked louder.

Arthur frowned, making the loud woman get behind him. He turned to Tony. "Please. How long have you known Alfred? And what were you two talking about at the club that night?"

"Doesn't make a difference, limey man," Tony murmured putting the stick back to his lips.

"It makes a difference to us," Chemise spoke out. "He's a good friend of ours."

"And FYI, boo, _this_ is Alfred's man," Brandy said over the Brit's shoulder, pointing at him a few times. "I don't know what games you playin', son, but you got a weak hand. Tell us what you know about Alfred going out of town!"

"I don't care if I'm talking to the fucking king of England," the young waiter said, turning his nose at them. "You're wasting your time."

Brandy came from around the Brit. "Your ass is gonna be wasting shit in your pants if you-"

Arthur pulled her back behind him. "Miss Brandy, stop it."

"Well..." Shea began holding out her hands. "What about Jen? Do you know her?"

The waiter quietly flicked the butt of the cigarette to make the ashes fall to the ground.

"Look, Tony," Shonda joined in, "we just wanna know if Alfred's in trouble. We're not tryin' to start anything."

Tony inhaled his cigarette once more, deep in thought.

Arthur frowned. "You're just as oblivious as we are... aren't you?" he asked.

Tony exhaled the smoke before damping his lips. "You can fuck him as many times as you want, tell him all your secrets, see a live game, or even go out for a drink or two. But getting inside that guy's head is tougher than finding a needle in a haystack. You can strap him in a chair and give him high voltage of electricity, and he still wouldn't crack. Accept him for a stupid friend he is. _Stop_... wasting your time." He drop the stick to the ground and put it out with the heel of his shoe. He pushed himself off the wall and headed to the door. He banged it loudly. Several seconds later there was a clicking noise. Tony pulled the handle opened. He paused and turned to his shoulder. "And _FYI_... we're not fucking." The gang watched him walk back inside and slamming the door shut.

The girls stood there quietly and turned to the Brit, wondering what was next. Arthur only stared blankly at the door with so many things going through his head. He took a deep sigh.

"Bollocks," he breathed.

**00000000**

"But Arthur," Brandy said, walking inside the apartment first followed by the other three girls, "how do you know he ain't lying?"

"I just know Alright?" the Brit answered for the seventh time to the sassy woman. He closed the door behind him and walked back over to the couch and sat. "Did you not see the look on his face?"

"Yeah," Shea replied. "He looked mad. That same way he looked when we saw him at the club."

"No-no! I saw the look in his eyes. He just looked frustrated. I truly believe that he really cares for Alfred, but like me he's fucking pissed at him for not telling him what all he's going through."

Chemise sat next to the Brit. "What are you gonna do?"

Arthur pressed his face to his hands. "I don't bloody know," he muffled a whine.

"Aside from our messages, did you get any from him at all today?"

"No..."

"I think we should all wait for him to get here," Shea suggested walking in the living room. "Maybe with the five of us gangin' on him, he might be bound to tell us who Jen is and why the hell he need so much damn money."

The Englishman shook his head. "Love, I've known him long enough to know that's not going to work. He could tell us anything."

_-"Stop... wasting your time."-_

The Brit was actually thinking of following Tony's advice. Whoever Jen was (girlfriend or not), maybe she needed Alfred more than he did. He shouldn't waste his time chasing after the American if another person is involved. Maybe he didn't want to live through the pain that he would be second best. Maybe he didn't want to be hurt if he knew the truth. Maybe...

"This isn't going to work out," the bushy brow man spoke to no one in particular.

"What ain't gonna work?" Brandy asked frowning.

"Ladies... he's right. I need to stop wasting my time looking for answers I won't find."

"Boy, quit trippin'!"

Chemise shook her head grabbing Arthur's forearm. "She's right, Arthur. Besides, you still need to hear Alfred's side of the story."

"Annndd... and," Shonda waved her finger, "maybe he'll tell you why he's been giving you the sad puppy eyes and what he did with all that paper!"

"But what if he tells me something I don't want to hear?" the doubting Brit asked.

"Whatever happens happens, boo," Shea replied. "And when it does happen we gonna be there for you no matter what. So look. Give him a call and ask him to come over so ya'll can talk."

The Brit sighed and turned to the girls who were giving him nods. Sighing hard through his lips, making a motor boat sound, he fished his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled for his number and found his nickname 'Git' and tapped it. He placed the phone to his ear and waited. He grunted with annoyance. "It's his voice mail."

"Leave a message."

The Brit waited until he heard the beep. "Alfred... please get here. We really need to talk..." He hung up and placed the phone on the coffee table.

"I guess we wait then," Chemise said with a sigh. "When he gets here we'll let you two talk in private."

"We are?!" Brandy cried making a face.

"Yes. We are, Brand."

The Englishman placed a hand on Chemise's shoulder. "Thank you, ladies. You are really good friends."

_~Three hours later~_

"Man, what the fuck?" Brandy cried looking out the window.

Alfred never showed up. He never called Arthur back. The American never did this before. Arthur was starting to worry, and he didn't know what to do. Two hours ago Arthur was going to cook something real quick for his guest since they really didn't go out for lunch. The girls however weren't really fond of the Brit's cooking so instead Brandy made an excuse and told him she already called in for Chinese. After saying out 'in bed' from a few read fortune cookies to past up the time the group was getting restless. Restless and pissed.

"Text him," Shonda suggested.

Arthur shook his head. "I bloody did."

Brandy angrily stormed over to the couch and snatched up her purse. She pulled out her phone. "Well, shit. I'll call him and see if he'll answer."

"Don't bother, Brand," Chemise sighed waving her hand at her. "I called an hour ago, and he never picked up."

"A'ight," Shea walked in to the middle of the living room holding up her hands. "Let's just stay calm. There might have been an emergency."

Brandy tossed her purse back on the couch, hitting Arthur's elbow by accident. "If there was an emergency he would have called British boy. Ya'll, he's ashamed of what he did to Arthur and he's avoiding him! It's just like I told ya'll an hour ago!"

"We don't know that," Shonda said from the connected kitchen tapping her chopsticks together. "Maybe he's mad at himself for hurting Arthur and just taking some time to cool off."

"We don't know that either."

"Did you call Kiku an-" Chemise was about to asked before the Brit cut her off.

"I called Kiku and Heracles. Neither one of them heard from him, but they'll keep me informed," he murmured rubbing his throbbing head. "Why the fuck is this happening?" The Brit moved his hands away from his hurting head and held them up to his face in defeat. "This is it. It's over between us. When he gets here I'm going to tell him we can't see each other anymore."

The girls all talked to Arthur at once, not liking his idea one bit.

"No! I thought I could handle it, ladies, but I'm growing ill of these secrets, of him not being honest with me. It's not going to be easy... but I'll live. What Miss Shonda said earlier today is true. I don't want to be with Alfred if he is not going to stay faithful to me."

"But what about his side, Arthur?" Chemise cried over the girls still chattering. "There is always two sides to every story. You can't give up now."

"Uh... spoiler alert, 'Mise!" Brandy sang plopping down on the couch. "Seventy-five percent of the time men ain't honest and faithful to their partner. Just like I warned you about Big Pootie! If Arthur wants answers we gotta go to the heart of the source, know what I'm saying?"

"Then what do you suggest we do then?" Shea frowned with a shrug.

"What my mama does best... get nosy."

Chemise's eyes narrowed her friend. "So in other words…go through Alfred's things and see if we could get our answers there...?"

Brandy folded her arms and lifted her brow in response.

The other three divas all silently stared at one another.

Arthur blinked turning to them. "Ladies..." he warned.

Like popcorn the girls sprang from their seats and raced down the hallway toward Arthur's bedroom.

Arthur turned paled and chased after them. "Ladies!" he cried.

* * *

**I have this negative thing going on in my head. It's that one thing I always say after every fic I write, so I won't write it. I would like to say this: a huge thanks to GlassCase for sticking by me and keeping up with the updates so far as well as supporting me. Okay. I gotta go to bed and get ready for work in the next nine hours or so. Be safe readers!**

**-Hoggy**


	6. A Loud Humming Noise

**A/N and all that jazz: **I actually wanted to add a little more to this chapter, but i think i will just post it in the next chapter instead. i hope i made the right decision. special thanks again to **Verlerious **who will be looking over this chapter later this week. so if you see any bad errors on here that means it hasn't been beta'd yet. so sorry. ):

**Axis_ Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya_**

**BFFF: Love Will Make it Certain**

**-A Loud Humming Noise-**

**00000000**

_~Dooey's Restaurant, three hours earlier...~_

"Terance," the owner Jerry of the eating establishment called to his son as he walked in the kitchen holding up an untouched plate. He placed it on the long cutting board, "you're still overcooking the fish, son!"

"Okay, okay!" the frantic son Terance cried, not paying attention to the plate and more concerned of breading the raw catfish and dumping them in the hot grease. The owner had to back away a bit as the grease was splashing each time a fish was tossed in.

Jerry frowned and grabbed his son's forearms to slow him down. "Naw, it's not 'okay, okay'!" he said shaking his head. "Son, the main reason the customers come here is to try our famous signature catfish, and you've been doing poorly at it. If you can't handle all this pressure in the kitchen why don't you just go back busting tables and the dishes-"

"Pop, I can _do_ this," the son broke free from his father's hold and went back over to flour the fish.

"You're freaking out," Jerry took the raw fish away from him. "And when you freak out you mess up. Nikita! Ms. Liz!" The owner called two other coworkers over to the cutting board.

The son frowned as he tried to snatch the fish from his father. "Dad, c'mon, man," he pleaded.

Jerry placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Bust the tables, son," he said quietly. "We got this... okay?"

Terance angrily shrugged his shoulder off his fathers hold. He grabbed the dish cart and pushed it out the kitchen without saying a word.

Jerry shook his head and plopped the raw fish on the cutting board.

"What's with all the commotion in here?"

The owner looked up, seeing a woman, his wife Rose walking in the kitchen. No matter what mood the woman was in Jerry would find her more and more beautiful.

Rose walked over to her husband with a concerned look while tying her white apron around her waist. "Terence walked by without saying hey," she said. "What happened?"

"He's messing up on the fish again, Rose," Jerry replied with his hand on his hip. "I told you he wasn't ready for this. He gets way too nervous when we're on a lunch rush."

The wife placed a hand on his chest, lightly patting it. "Baby, he's been trying his hardest. Give him a break."

"I _am _giving him a break. He's going back to being a bust boy and taking orders. I'm getting sick of seeing disappointed customers leave every time he's behind the grill, baby."

"Jerry, nobody's perfect. It's not like we're going out of business. He's just trying do all he can to impress you."

James turned to his wife with a confused look on his face. "Impress me?"

Rose rolled her eyes lightly smacking the back of his brown dome head. The other chefs saw and snickered. "Duh," she cried making a face. "When that sweet boy Alfred used to work here four months ago you've been giving him more attention than you have with your own son. You were treating Alfred like he was _your _child."

"Rose... the boy can cook for a white guy," Jerry said giving her wife an obvious look. "But I... I had no idea he felt that way. Is this what he told you?"

Rose slipped on her hair net and walked over to the sink washing her hands. "He didn't have to tell me nothing. I'm a mother, and I know these things." She wiped her damp hands with a clean towel before slipping on some plastic gloves.

Jerry went over to the sink to wash up as well. "I didn't know, Rose," he murmured, putting on gloves and joined his wife at the cutting board. He helped her chop up the vegetables. "At the time he act like he wasn't into this family business. He never wanted to help out. All he ever wanted to do was hang out with his friends, play ball, and play those devilish video games."

Rose reached her hand grabbing the next menu sheet off the counter window and read through it. "Need a fish fry special," she cried out over her shoulder. "Low on salt, English peas instead of fries, with a slice of lemon on the side!"

"Yes ma am," a few chefs replied behind the owner's wife.

"Jerry," Rose began in mid chop of the vegetables, "Terance is starting to feel like you don't want him to be part of your life no more. You know how sensitive he is. You two really need to work this out."

Jerry went to the stove and stirred the kennel corn a bit. He reached over the counter grabbing another order. "Joe," he called over his shoulder, "I need a double Angus beef, double the bacon, double the ketchup, substitute regular fires with sweet potato fries, and add paprika season."

"You got it, J!" Joe the fry boy called back, his voice deep enough to pull off into becoming a baritone singer.

Ms. Liz went over to the owner with two plates of nicely cooked catfish. The fixed one was from the order Terance messed up. Jerry took the plates and put a serving of English peas, cream potatoes, sweet roll and a fresh cut lemon. He placed it on the counter and lightly tapped the bell a few times. "Fry special, with English peas! Regular fry special!"

"Fry special and fixed fry! Thank you, Jerry!" a waiter from outside the kitchen replied, grabbing both plates.

Jerry walked back over to the vegetable table and continued chopping them. "I'll talk to him after work." he said to his wife.

Rose smiled warmly, lightly brushing her shoulder against his in a sweet gesture. "Good," she said. The couple continued chopping in silence. The wife then spoke. "Baby?"

"Hm?" Jerry hummed.

"That last order you called out?"

"Yeah, the Angus beef. Extra patty."

The owner's wife narrowed her eyes slightly thinking. "Doesn't it sound familiar to you?"

**00000000**

Alfred stared quietly out the window at Dooey's restaurant waiting for his order. This was his third job that he used to work at. He didn't recognized most of the waiters there. They were probably hired during the summer break. He did know Chuck who was Jerry's brother-in-law. He didn't notice the blonde man's presence just yet. He and the others were far too busy with the crazy rush. Alfred adjusted his glasses before taking another sip of his coke through a straw. It was bliss. Dooey's fountain drinks always tasted fresh and highly carbonated. It was like when you first open a fresh cold bottle. He put the large cup down at took a deep sigh.

"Damn," he murmured to himself, running his hand through his hair. His cowlick bounced right back into place, "that was fucking exhausting."

The American talked to his former boss at ICOM for nearly two and a half hours. The blonde man talked, and Kwamba sat quietly and listened. After number fifty was finished the club owner talked, and Alfred sat and quietly listened. Questions were asked. Questions were answered. There was sympathy. An offer. Then rejection. An argument erupted back and forth. Realizing there was no winning this battle, the blonde man gave in. The check was presented, blank. The offer was accepted. There was a nod. A hug. A warm smile. And the two left the office. The former stripper caught up with his former coworkers after that. Both the blond and the owner never spoke of their meeting to anyone as promised.

Alfred reached into his pocket pulling out the blank check Kwamba gave him. He told the blonde he can put down as many zeros as he wanted.

_-"If you write down just one dollar I'm gonna kill you. You know that right?"-_

The blonde laughed at the joking threat Kwamba told him. Then again it probably wasn't a joke. He put the check back in his pocket. He looked up noticing another familiar face coming his way. He grinned and waved at the young teen wiping an empty booth not too far his way. "Terance! What's up, dude?"

Terance looked up, seeing the energetic blonde. "Alfred?" The teen dropped his towel and walked over to the table and sat across from him. Both of them gave each other a fist bump. "What's going on, man? I didn't know you were here."

"Just here to spend time with my boyfriend."

The teen blinked a few times. "Boyfriend?" he said. "So you're..."

"Bi."

Terance looked up at the ceiling, thinking long and hard about the answer. "Hm..."

The blonde grinned and changed the subject. "So yeah! I thought I just stop by to see how you guys are holding up." Alfred looked around the busy place. "Looks like you guys get busier during the summer time huh?"

"Yeah," Terance sighed slouching down on his seat looking down.

The blonde blinked. "You okay, bro?"

"I wish I was good at stuff like you, Alfred," the son blurted out. "Since you left I asked pop if I can work in the kitchen. But I suck at it. I always end up burning the signature catfish. I get nervous and I mess up. I want him to love me just like how he loves you."

Alfred eyes sadden. "Aw, kid," he said softly. "Of course Mr. Dooey loves you. So you burned a few things. Why would he stop loving ya for that?"

"He pays more attention to you when you were working here. I hated working here, but when I saw how you two bonded so well..." Terance shook his head before looking back up at the older man. "I was jealous. I was so jealous of you."

"Terance..."

The blonde never saw Mr. Dooey's son much when he was working. He was always quiet. Mrs. Dooey would cook something for him for lunch, and Terrance would sit in the back finishing his plate and quietly left without telling anyone bye. Alfred then realized the number of times Terance would come in he watched both him and Jerry get along, cooking together, and acting as they were a family. The owner did feel like a father figure at times to the blonde. Alfred stared blankly at his menu while adjusting his glasses.

"I didn't know you felt that way, dude," he said quietly.

_It did feel nice to have an experience like that... for a short while anyway._

The teen turned away looking out the window. "I guess you hate me now huh?"

Alfred looked up at the teen and grinned. "Nope" the blonde happily replied.

The son turned to him, shocked.

"Mr. Dooey talks about you quite often. Even though he's annoyed at you for not helping out in the kitchen at the time he's still proud of you. He's proud of your studies and you joining the basket ball team at school. He's proud to have you for a son. I mean my dad..." Alfred paused and turned to the window frowning slightly. He turned back to Terance and continued. "Terance... not many kids are lucky to have caring and loving parents like you. I guess you could say that _I'm _kinda jealous."

Terance blinked. "Oh..."

"If you felt that way about your dad you two should talk, man."

"Did he really say that?" Terance's face lit up. "That he's proud of me?"

"Yeah, dude!" The blonde looked over noticing the building was getting more and more packed. "Looks like you guys are getting slammed."

"Yeah. It's like it's never gonna end."

The blonde turned back to the teen and smiled. "Gotta extra apron?"

Terance nodded. "It's in the kitchen."

Alfred got up from his table and gestures Terance to stand as well. "Cool! C'mon! I wanna show ya a little secret I do when I'm frying the fish." The blonde patted the teen's back and walked across the restaurant to reach the kitchen. He brushed passed a few grumpy and hungry customers with Terance not far behind and made his way behind the counter. A young cashier turned to Alfred looking nervous. Terance went over to her letting her know he used to work here. Alfred let himself in and grabbed a nearby apron.

Ms. Liz and Nikita both looked up at the upcoming visitor. Their eyes lit up. Alfred placed a finger to his lips to hush them before they cried out his name. He winked and gestured his head at the two owners at the stove who were too preoccupied to notice their old coworker's appearance. Alfred washed his hands at the nearby sink, dried them, and motioned Terance to follow him at the fish fry table. Alfred gestured his hands at the fish to the ladies to get their permission to take over. The ladies grinned and nodded and went back to their regular working station, secretly letting the other chefs know the old coworker's presence and to keep them quiet.

"I need four fish fry specials, Ms. Liz!" Rose called over her shoulder.

"Yes ma am," Liz called back from across the room followed by a giggle.

Alfred grinned at her old coworker and got started breading four raw catfishes.

"Okay," he quietly told the teen next to him. "You gotta remember after the fish is pulled out of the deep fryer it still continues to cook since the grease is hot as shit. Depending how thick the fish is it takes a little over three minutes. Do you have a favorite song that's at least three minutes long?"

Terance thought for a moment. "Super Bass is about three minutes or so long."

"Alright, we'll go with that. As soon as you put the strainer in the grease, play the song in your head." The blonde neatly placed the breaded fish on the strainer and hands the handle to the teen. Terance takes the strainer and carefully puts it in the deep fryer and hums to himself. The blonde nodded placing a hand on the son's shoulder before quietly sneaking over to the busy couple. Joe the fry boy was meeting him there with his order. Alfred's eyes lit up and took the pate from him mouthing a 'thank you.'

"Is that double Angus ready?" Jerry called over his shoulder. The owner saw a burger on a plate held out next to him from the corner of his eye. He took the plate. "Thanks, brotha."

Alfred patted his back hard. "Anytime, boss," the blonde said making his best impression of Joe.

Jerry was about to put the plate on the counter and paused, making a confused face. "Joe... you sound white..."

Alfred chuckled.

Both owners turned around and their jaws dropped seeing an old friend.

"Alfred," Rose cried happily giving him a big hug. She turned to her husband. "Didn't I tell you the only person crazy enough to have two giant patties all at once is this crazy boy?"

"My god, Alfred!" Jerry cried, giving the blonde an even bigger hug, patting his back hard. "Good to see you, man!"

"Let's save the reunion after the rush you two," the blonde chuckled, breaking free from their hugs. "We are here to help out if it's cool."

"'We?'" Jerry and Rose both said in unison.

Terance walked over to his father with four plates of sizzling catfish, two held in each hand. He carefully placed them on the table.

"Terance," the father said.

"Are they..." the son began, "...are they ready?"

Jerry gets a fork and stabs each of them to test it. He turned to his son and nodded. "Yeah. They're perfect, son. Nice work!"

"Nice!" Alfred cheered going behind the teen and patted his shoulders and shaking him.

Terance grinned looking bashful as his father placed a hand on top of his head. The other chefs cheered also.

"Alright, cheering is over, ya'll," Rose announced clapping her hands. "Let's get these people outta here. Alfred and Terance, I'm holding you two responsible for the fish now. Don't let me down."

"Yes ma am!" both Alfred and Terance said proudly.

**00000000**

"Thank you! The food was great!"

"Thank you! Ya'll come again," Jerry waved at the last customers leaving the rush. All was calm again. The service went quite smoothly. It only took an hour to send the orders out, leaving each and every customer full, happy and satisfied in the end. The workers could finally take a breather. Jerry walked over to the booth table where Alfred, Rose, and Terance were sitting. Alfred was finishing off his order. It got cold during the rush, so he had to reheat it. Rose offered to make a fresher order, but the blonde refused. They were all talking and playing catch up. Jerry sat next to his wife and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Mr. Alfred Jones. I can't thank you _and_ my son enough for helping us out today."

The hungry blonde swallowed his burger and wiped his mouth with a napkin to speak. "Ah, it was nothing, sir," he humbly said. "You two have been so good to me for having me work here to make ends meet."

"So are you officially back? You can still keep the preferred days since you have your full-time job."

"He's just visiting for now, baby," Rose answered for the blonde. She grinned, patting her husband's knee, adding, "He stopped by to see his boyfriend."

"He's bisexual, dad," Terance spoke, his mouth stuffed with french fries.

"Oh..." Jerry said looking up at the ceiling deep in thought.

Alfred chuckled, once again changing the subject. "I'm leaving Tuesday. I'm... not too sure when I'll be back."

Rose reached over cupping the blonde's hand. "Well, baby, you are more than welcome to come back anytime."

"Our home is your home. You can come to us for anything!" Jerry said and with a chuckle added, "And may I also add that you can cook?"

"You're part of our family now, Alfred," Terance said lightly fisting the blonde's shoulder.

Alfred smiled softly at the three. "Thanks, guys. Really. I appreciate it."

"Alfred if you don't mind me asking," Jerry began rubbing the back of his bald head.

Rose pouted, placing a hand to his chest. "Jerry," she warned, "the boy can love whoever he wants. Don't judge."

"What? No, not that, baby. I love the boy just the same, but..." the owner sat up a bit in his seat before continuing, "I was wanting to ask you about the little emergency you had to take care of when you went outta town. I mean..."

The blonde blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Like we told ya, Alfred. You're part of our family now. Rose and I talked on the day you left and..."

Rose cupped her husband's hand to continue. "You just seemed... off that day. We were just concerned. You really didn't give us an actual reason why you had to temporary leave. We're not trying to be nosy, baby. Just wanted to make sure that everything is alright."

Alfred hated lying. He hated telling the truth also.

_Damn. I'm not used to having people concerned for me. Is it really that noticeable?_

The blonde smiled warmly at the family. "You guys have nothing to worry about. Things are gonna be fine."

_It will be... It has to be._

A muffled song was heard suddenly. The family looked around to see where it was coming from. The blonde slid his rear off the bench and got up to reach into his back pocket. The song gotten louder. It was Alfred's phone.

"Hey! I like that Beatles song," Terrance said to no one in particular.

"Sorry, I... gotta take this." The former chef turned a heel and quickly rushed to the restroom, leaving the family a little baffled.

Alfred rushed inside the men's room nearly running head first into an customer. He murmured an apology letting them go by first and locked the door behind him. Checking the stalls to make sure he was alone he finally answered the phone. "Yes..." he greeted dryly turning to the mirror. He then sighed deeply burying his fingers through his hair tugging it nervously. "...shit... when? ...Jesus." Alfred checked his watch. "Okay, I'm..." The blonde rolled his eyes letting go of his hair. "...why is it that every time me and her have a private conversation _you_ have to be involved also? ..._she _was the one suggesting that I come back home. Not you. Tell her I-no! Your job is to- ...why the fuck do you even care? This is not about my consequences. I'm sick of being the last person to hear about these things. ...Five years, Kelly. Five _fucking _years I've been in the dark. I refuse not being part-" The blonde angrily turned away from the mirror, holding his tongue to keep from raising his voice. He walked to the other side of the restroom. "You know Jen may think you're an angel, but I know what you were like before. Being by her side to redeem yourself isn't going to change the fact that you're a despicable person. It sickens me we have to act all buddy-buddy around her. ...No. I'm not gonna tell her. Because she's my best friend... and I love her too much to hurt her. All I care for is her happiness, and if it's you that makes her happy so be it. Meanwhile you can spend the rest of your sleepless nights regrettably knowing you made me the bad guy all because I almost stole Jen away from you. I'm- ..._Fuck _you, Kelly..." The blonde hung up on the caller and angrily shoved the phone back in his back pocket. A loud banging on the door was heard and aggressive twisting of the door knob. Alfred remained still in the middle of the room. He took a few deep breaths to stay calm, fixed his hair in the mirror, and walked out the restroom. There was a short line of men standing outside waiting looking annoyed.

"Why'd you lock the door, man?" the first man in line snapped before rudely brushing pass Alfred. "Some people gotta take a shit."

The blonde bit his lower lip turning to the side to let the other men in. "M...my bad," he muttered. He shook his head before walking back over to the family at the booth. Mrs. Dooey was the first to get up and walk over to the former worker. She grabbed his hands.

"Alfred, baby," she said with concern, "what's going on? Some customers told us you locked the door, and they heard you fussing at someone."

"Mrs. Dooey, it's cool," he sighed shaking his head. "Just arguing with a so-called friend. Things are cool."

"You're not having a fight with your partner are you?

"Nothing like that. Look..." The blonde smiled warmly before leaning forward gently pressing his lips to the wife's cheek. "I really need to go. I gotta take care of some things again."

Mr. Dooey got off the booth and walked over to him. "Alfred, really. Is there anything we can do-"

"Worse case scenario I'll come to you. But you guys really have nothing to worry about."

"Alright, baby." The wife released the blonde's hands and held hers up, dropping the subject. "You still have our personal numbers?"

"Yes ma am!" Alfred grinned giving her a big hug. He then reached over the booth giving Terance a quick fist bump farewell. "Ter'..."

The teen nodded and grinned. "'Fred..."

Mr. Dooey shook Alfred's hand and patted his shoulder. "You be blessed, Alfred," he said. "We're just a phone call away if you need us."

The blonde nodded, squeezing his hand. "Thanks."

**00000000**

The Brit watched in horror as his lady friends were going through all of Alfred's bags to find any clues. Piles of clothing, books, and other personal things were all over the floor. They still haven't heard from the git. Every two minutes the paranoid Brit rushed over and peeked his head out in the hallway to make sure he didn't hear the sound of a duplicate apartment key unlocking the door.

"This doesn't feel right, ladies..." he said sitting on his bed, watching them ignoring him.

Arthur didn't get involved. Though he wanted to know if they came across some dirt. He was nervous that the taller blonde would find out that someone was going through his things. Alfred did pack a lot of things.

"What did you find in that bag, Chemise?" Shonda asked.

"Just DVDs and video games. But nothing out of the ordinary."

"Nothing but comic books in this one," Shea called carelessly tossing the safely sealed books to the side. "And some candy wrapper. Hm... never heard of this brand before. Smells good though."

Brandy was going through the larger bag tossing the clothes everywhere. "Shirts... shirts... pants... pants... underwear... oohh..." the black girl grinned pulling out a sliver tube that had the words 'Man Glide' written in big blue letters. "Wonder what this is for?"

"GIVE THAT TO ME!" the Brit bellowed sprinting over to Brandy, snatching the tube away from her. The girls laughed hysterically. "Ladies, please. This is hopeless. He doesn't have anything in there."

"He's probably right, ya'll," Chemise said neatly putting the stuff back like Alfred had it. "So weird. He doesn't have his flight tickets or his tags on his bags of where they were flown from."

"Oooh! Ooh!" Brandy gasped and clapped a few times, getting an idea. "Let's call the airport!" she suggested. "Maybe they can tell us about Alfred's flight and where it'll be flyin' to Tuesday." The girls all talked aloud as Brandy went to fetch her phone.

The Brit held up his hands trying to quiet them. "That's _not_," he cried out, quieting them. "That's not going to work. They're going to ask for all his information. Information that we don't have."

"What other choice do we have?" Shea said. "Arthur, I feel like we're the only ones trying over here."

"Are you really gonna let this go?" Chemise asked with her hands on her hips. "Are you really gonna give up?"

The Brit turned away from them tapping the personal lubricant on his palm. What else could he do? Everything was just happening so fast. He was tired of coming to a dead end. The blasted git was gone all day. He never returned his calls. Maybe he knew the truth would be too much for Arthur.

The Brit shrugged. "Maybe I will," he finally replied, back still turned to them. "I'm not going to hold my breath waiting for him to tell me he's been shagging up some young tart. I have a life. And if he can't be part of it... then..."

"Okay I got the number," Brandy came back in holding up her phone. "Ya'll shut up! I got it on speaker."

Arthur sighed and turned to the girls who were surrounding Brandy with the phone.

"_Thank you for calling the Dallas International Airport!" _the female representative greeted. _"This is Amanda! How may I help you?"_

"Uh, yeah!" Brandy answered rather too loudly. The Brit always chuckled whenever she would talk on the phone and automatically talk loud without noticing. "I'm Brandy! How you doing today?"

"_I'm doing wonderful, Miss Brandy. What can I do for you?"_

"Yeah! My boyfriend... is leaving town this Tuesday... and... I think he misplaced his flight ticket! Do you think you can pull up his name? We tryin' to see what time the plane will be departin'. His name is Alfred F. Jones!"

"_That's fine, Miss Brandy. However we do have a policy to keep the customers information secured."_

Arthur held out his free hand at the ladies giving them an 'I told you so' expression on his face.

"Uhh... okay..." Brandy said carefully her eyes trailing from side to side nervously.

"_Do you by chance have his driver license or maybe his confirmation number of his purchased ticket? I can take that over the phone."_

"Um... no..." Brandy replied.

"_How about the last four digits of his credit card? Or his social security number?"_

"Um... he... didn' leave it with me...!"

"_Miss Brandy. In order for me to look up his flight schedule, I need to have one of those information in order for us to continue. With so many incidents happening in airports throughout the years we are taking __**highly **__strict precautions. Would you like to wait for your boyfriend to get back and you can call back later?"_

"Okay, ya know what? Umm..." the poor girl stammered smacking her glossy lips, "this is gonna be a crazy story. See... I found out he's been cheatin' on me, right?"

"Oh bugger," Arthur sighed placing a hand to his face.

"And I think wherever his flight is taking him it's where that heifah stays. And if so I wanna track this bitch down and stab her face off. I mean you gotta man don't you, Amanda?"

"_Well... yes ma am. But you-"_

"Annndd... if you caught yo' man cheating you'd wanna find out who this heifah is also right?"

"_Well, I... guess so. I would be very upset. But, Miss Brandy you must-"_

"So... can you bend the rules... just a lil' bit?"

There was a long pause. Then a long sigh on the other end of the line.

"_Can I give you some advice, Miss Brandy?" _Amanda spoke.

"Um," Brandy made a face with her lips poked out with a shrug. "I guess?"

"_Fighting another woman to get your man back is not one of the best solutions. If he is cheating on you, he is cheating on you. You can scream at him, hit him, or maybe run him over with your own car to get satisfaction. Doesn't really change the fact that he wasn't truthful to you. If you are dating someone and another woman is involved... leave him immediately. Because the battle is already lost. Do you understand what I'm getting at, Miss. Brandy?" _

"Um... I guess..."

"_Once you get Mr. Jones's information give me a call back, alright?"_

Brandy twisted her lips slightly. Usually she would have a comeback whenever she heard something she didn't like to hear. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yes ma am," she murmured and disconnected her call. She turned to her girlfriends. "Shit. Why does the truth hurt?"

"Lies hurt much worse, dear," Arthur answered plopping back down on his bed and tossing the tube to the side. "This battle is over, girls. And I lost. I have to let him go."

Brandy, Shonda, and Shea walked over to the Brit and sat next to him consoling him, kissing his cheeks and leaving lipstick stains. For once the Brit didn't even care. He didn't realized he held his breath in until Shonda pulled him close to her and placing his head on her size C cup breast. He exhaled and closed his eyes tight.

"British boy," Brandy spoke softly reaching over to place a hand on his knee. "If ya gotta let it out..."

The Brit placed his hand over Brandy's. Her skin was always so soft to the touch. It was quite comforting to him. "I don't want to," he refused, shaking his head against Shonda's boob. "I can't."

Chemise who was standing alone in the middle of the room shook her head with arms folded. "Why do I have to keep stressing this out to ya'll?" she broke the girls soft, comforting vowels. "Cheating or not I still wanna hear Alfred's goddamn side. We divas never give up so easily!"

"Chemise, I think Arthur made his decision," Shea said sadly, holding his other hand.

"I don't think it even matters anymore," Shonda added.

"Ya'll _come _on!" Chemise plopped down next to Brandy grabbing her forearm. "What about Jen? What about the money? The sad puppy eyes? ...the mysterious lubricant tube sticking up my ass. What the..." The nicely slim diva sat up a bit grabbing the tube underneath her and tossed it to the pile of Alfred's clothes. "Look, we'll stay here for the night and wait for Alfred to get here. Even if it takes pointing a damn knife at him we're gonna get to the bottom of this-"

"Miss Chemise," Arthur murmured head still resting on Shonda's chest, "I appreciate you. I appreciate all of you. You four have been such wonderful friends to stick by me for this long. But this is just growing old. I don't want to do this anymore. Even if he calls me this very second, I'd probably tell him to pis-"

_-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep...-_

Everyone grew quiet hearing a muffled beeping noise close by.

_-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep...-_

"That ain't my ring tone," Brandy said.

The Brit pulled away from Shonda's hold and got up walking in the middle of the messy room. He hesitantly reached into his pocket and pulled out his iphone that was causing the ruckus. The four divas eyes widen, mouths agape. They were too scared to say anything. The phone went off again. The Brit just stared not knowing what to do.

_-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep...-_

"Arthur..." Chemise's vocals had the energy to speak.

The Brit bit his lower lip and turned to her.

"Let him do the talking first. No matter what let him speak."

_-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep...-_

He wanted to hear his voice. He wanted to yell at him. He wanted to say harsh things to him that he would probably regret saying later. As soon as he answered the phone his life would change forever. For them both. He started to think back about last night. What if he didn't bring up Jen? What if they didn't have that fight? What if he never hit the taller blonde? What if he didn't answer the call that was happening right now? It was only a matter of time before the next few rings would go to his voice mail. The battle was still on. Now or never. With eyes closed and a deep sigh the Brit pressed a button on his phone and slowly placed it to his ear.

"Hello," he said, barely a soft whisper.

"_...hey," _came the familiar voice on the other end, voice just as soft and hesitant.

"...hi."

"_Arty, don't hang up, okay? I just got your message. As well as Chemise's and the others. Sometimes it automatically goes to voice mail and-"_

"Who is Jen?" the Brit calmly demanded.

A pause.

"_My old high school sweetheart," _the American calmly answered._ "We only dated for about a year and a few months before I went to college. She's a year younger than me. We lost touch for a while, and..." _A pause. _"She came in contact with me last year. But Arty we're-"_

"You've been with this woman..." the Brit began, voice cracked slightly, "_all_ this time."

"_It's not like th-"_

"What the fuck is it then? You go out of town to fuck this woman. Then come back here fucking me."

Chemise frowned waving her hand at the Brit. She couldn't make clear what Alfred was saying in the background, but she knew Arthur was cutting him off.

"_Arty-"_

"Not only have you been unfaithful to me but to her as-"

"_Arthur... me and her aren't dating. We're frien-."_

"Friends is it?!" the Brit bellowed with an angry laugh. "Fuck friends, right Alfred?"

"_No! Just __**friends**__, Arthur. Nothing more."_

"Is that suppose to make things better? You're hiding things behind my back, Alfred. I thought I could deal with not knowing your full personal life. But I guess I was wrong. Those three bloody jobs, you leaving town. Is she using you? Was this all for her? Is she more important to you?"

A pause.

"_She..." _a stammered voice, _"...she needs me Arty."_

Pause. This wasn't going as smoothly as one would hope. No matter. This one test the Brit was about to throw on the American would be a sure win. It never failed. The git would come back to him embracing him. Arthur would forget all about being upset with the guy. Jen would be out of the picture, and things would turn back to normal. This had to work one way or the other.

"Do you love me?"

"_I love you more than you'll ever know, dude."_

Score!

"Then come home."

Pause.

"_I can't."_

The Brit clenched his phone tighter biting down his lower lip enough to draw blood. "You can't. Right. So I guess you've made your choice then. What motel would you like to stay so I can send for your things?"

"_Arty-"_

"No. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear one bloody excuse after another. Friends come before lovers and yadda yadda. You've proven your point. I'm sick and tired of waiting. Give me the fucking address to your..." Arthur paused listening closely to the speaker of his phone. "What... and what the bloody hell is that loud humming noise in the background?"

"_Um..." _the American stammered.

"Alfred... where are you?"

There was a slight chuckle and a clearing of the throat. _"I'm on a plane."_

A pause.

"You're..." the Brit closed his eyes shaking his head slightly to make sure he heard correctly, "you're on a bloody plane."

"_Yeah."_

The divas mouths opened wider looking amongst each other.

"Today... is Saturday. Your flight leaves Tuesday. I heard you telling Roderich this yesterday."

"_I bought a flight ticket to leave today. Something's come up."_

The Brit felt his heart stopping. He was so shocked, confused, and pissed he forgot what he was about to say next. The Brit walked back over to this bed and got on his knees in front of the girls who looked confused. He reached his hand underneath the bed and pulled something out. It took only a few seconds for the girls to realize Arthur was holding a flask, filled with scotch. The short blonde twisted open the bottle, carelessly toss the top to the side and took a huge swig. Brandy and the others looked at each other again, wondering if they should do or say something.

Arthur pulled the drink away form his lips and swallowed. "So the decision _has _been made then," he said rather calmly.

"_Arthur, no," _The taller blonde pleaded. _"Choice has nothing to do with it. I'm not picking favorites. But this... this is an emergency."_

Arthur smiled sourly. "Ah."

"_Arthur, I..." _The taller blonde on the other line sighed trying to get his point across. _"Can we... let's talk this out once the plane lands."_

"Alfred..." the Brit sighed in return lowering his flask. "I'm done with this. If you can't be honest with me-"

"_Arthur, what are you saying?"_

"I don't want to be selfish. If this woman means a whole lot to you then I don't know how this is going to work out. I thought I could hold out for four more months or even more without you being near me. I fucking _missed _you git. I miss your dumb smile and your stupid jokes. Your warmth and kiss. I don't want to be your number two. It's not worth it."

"_Arty... this," _the American muttered a swear word away from the phone. _"Numbers don't mean anything. I love you. But I have to take care of something really important. I need you to wait for me just a little longer... please."_

The Brit, already getting slightly buzzed from the drink, walked over to his wall colored in a terrible beige paint coat and leaned his back against it. He could have told him yes. He could have waited forever. Would it be really well worth it again? No. No more waiting. No more of these unanswered questions or half truths. No more with the senseless battles. It was time to let it all go. Once and for all.

"Goodbye, Alfred."

"_Arthur, come on... I will come back to you."_

The short blonde pulled the phone away from his ear.

"_Don't hang up, man. Arthur. Don't let me make a idiot of myself in the restroom."_

A thumb was heading towards the disconnect button.

"_Arthur... I'm-"_

_-beep-_

It was done. The battle ceased. It didn't matter who won or lost. The Brit no longer wanted to be part of it. Arthur tilted his head back until a slightly painful thump was heard against the wall. He took a long swig of his drink, placed the phone to the side and let it hit the floor.

"British boy...?" he barely heard Brandy call to him.

The Englishman slid his body down the wall until his rear end hit the bottom downing his drink still, swallowing loudly.

"What do we do?" he heard Shea whispered.

Arthur pulled the drink away from his lips once more. He turned his head facing the ladies. "'What do we do?'" he repeated the question followed by a breathy laugh. "I'll tell ya what we can do, girlfriend. Let's celebrate me dumping the most pathetic and backstabbing arsehole that's ever walked in the face of the planet."

"Arthur," Chemise got up and walked over to the tipsy Brit, "don't do this to-"

"No, no, no, love! I'm serious! Let's fucking go to the club and celebrate our single lives. We deserve this! We _fucking_ deserve this, right?" It took Arthur a moment to realized he was on his feet thanks to Chemise and Brandy. The flask was missing also.

"How 'bout we just stay for the night?" Brandy suggested. "No drinks. No parties. Just the five of us okay, boo?"

"We can still have drinks, Miss Brandy. Don't be silly. Look-look!" Arthur broke pass the girls and dived underneath his bed fishing out even more alcoholic drinks. Shonda and Shea who were still sitting on the bed made a high pitch noise. They both clenched their knees together, hoping the crazy blonde wasn't trying to look underneath their tight skirts. He sat up with a tequila in one hand and a Sam Adams on the other. "The wankers Kiku and Heracles never thought of finding my stashes underneath my bed. We can have our own bloody club here!"

Chemise snatched both drinks from him.

"You're more than welcome to take that with you, Miss Chemise. Miss Shea? Miss Shonda? What can I get for you?" he was beginning to go underneath his bed once more until Brandy grabbed his forearm.

"British boy!" she cried. "That's enough!"

Arthur turned to her and snorted a laugh. "There's never enough drinks, Miss Brandy. Be thankful that I'm actually _sharing _them with you all. Let's drink, get drunk, and share what in the world we've done wrong with our depressing lives."

Brandy got on her knees and grabbed his shoulders. "You've done nothing wrong, Arthur," she tried explaining.

"You bet your hot bubble arse I haven't! He's gonna regret going back to her. Then he'll come crawling back to me, and I'll only turn the other cheek." Arthur looked down at the floor nodding to himself. "He'll see. He'll fucking see." His eyes looked dark and un-lively to Brandy for a split second.

"Arthur..."

"You like mixed drinks don't you Miss Brandy? There's one that you must try." He broke loose from the woman's hold and went back under the bed pulling out another bottle. "Oh, but I need to buy more orange juice."

"Arthur. Stop."

"No matter. We can substitute it with cranberry."

"Arthur! Just let it go, boo!"

The Brit paused and lift a bushy brow. "What the bloody hell do you think I'm doing?" He twisted open the top of the bottle and threw his head back downing the clear, strong liquid. Most was spilling down the corners of his mouth. Shea and Shonda couldn't stand it. They both including Chemise rushed over to him and snatched the bottle away. The Brit, mouth still having vodka in it, gagged and gurgled angrily trying to get the bottle back. The girls tried holding him down trying to talk some sense into him. The Brit tired breaking free from their hold, growling, "Give it here!"

"Arthur, you're scaring us," Shonda pleaded.

"Shut up!" he barked silencing them. "I don't need you telling me what I can and can't do. I wanna get drunk and numb! I thought you ladies would be there for me like Miss Chemise when she dumped her boyfriend. But noooo! You four kept bitching that I'm not doing anything about that twat's private affairs. Well I don't care! I stopped caring! I don't need him, and I don't need any of you! So why don't you all fucking piss off-"

If it weren't for Shonda and Shea between him and holding him steady by the shoulders, Arthur would have been thrown across the room face first against the wall by Brandy's strong slap. The rings she wore on her index and middle finger didn't make it any better. The Englishman, silent, head turned to the side stared blankly at the floor. He blinked a few times, vision blurry and seeing red spots. The Brit blinked dumbfounded and ran his tongue across his bottom lip. It tasted coppery. Those red blurry spots were blood.

"It fucking hurts," Brandy whispered harshly. "And I don't just mean that slap. So stop denyin' it, British boy. I rather you sit here and cry like a _bitch _than drinking your ass off and doin' something stupid. Of course we here for you. But don't do this. Not like this."

Her words came to him like a light in the end of a tunnel. He was shivering because he was angry. He was shivering because she was right. It hurt worse than that strike. Arthur thought it was meaningless to cry over something you lost. He thought it made you weak, a pushover. He didn't want to be like those people. It was meaningless.

"I've done nothing wrong," he murmured barely a whisper.

"Of course not. So it's okay, British boy."

Arthur clenched his fists that were placed on his knees. His lips quivered. His shoulders began to shake. His breathing became short. He knew this feeling. This was a feeling he hadn't experience in years. This was a feeling he knew too well. This was a feeling he never wanted to feel ever again. The red droplets on the floor suddenly began saturating from clear, salty liquid. It wasn't his fault. He did nothing wrong. What did he do to deserve this?

"No," the Brit said hoarsely shaking his head seeing more clear droplets hitting the floor. "No, no, no, no, no.. I-I can't... I don't want to... I-I don't want... please don't let me..."

Brandy cupped the blonde's bruised face. "It's fine, baby," she said soothingly.

The hard shell of emotions weaken and it finally broke free. The Englishman clenched his eyes shut and fisted a few strains of his yellow bangs. He made quiet gasps behind his throat failing miserably to fight it. With a little force the Brit was pulled toward the curvy Afro with a tight embrace, whispering comforting words in his ear. Arthur gasped loudly, buried his face in the crook of her neck and muffled a quiet sob. He felt hands gently brushing back and forth across his back. A soft hand clenching his shaking ones. He heard comforting words all around him. He hated this feeling, but he also needed it. He didn't want this devotion, but he also welcomed it.

"I'm s-s..." the crying Brit stammered. "I-I'm s-sorry for saying those h-harsh things... I'm so... so..."

The girls understood, comforting him more and accepting his apology. They knew he was upset. Why wouldn't he? They were relieved to see this softer side of the Englishman. And they won't leave his side no matter what.

* * *

**again there was suppose to be more after this part, but i felt this was a good stopping point for now. unless it has been my lack of sleep lately, this chapter literally had me in tears. i hope i'm not being a butt for keeping you all in suspense again. special thanks to another supporter crocious and another old BFFF follower for not giving up on the story so far. i will do my best to put my next chapter together. hopefully the technique i've been working on will help keep the fic rolling. until then stay warm and be safe!**

**-Hoggy**


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